LIFE IS UNFAIR
by HiBob
Summary: A pleasant romp through Middle Earth with Frodo and Sam as they . . . Sorry, wrong story . . . Malcolm has gone back to Hogwarts for his second year . . . Wait . . . Yeah. that's right. Completed Story plus deleted scenes
1. Summer Vacation

CHAPTER 2: SUMMER VACATION 

Miss Miller looked nervously at her students. She was happy that most of them had decided to take time off from their vacation break for the special class on advanced quantum mechanics. What worried her was one boy, Malcolm, in the middle of the group of students, with his friend, Stevie.

Malcolm was, at one time, her brightest pupil, and best hope. Then he suffered a nervous breakdown while in Europe on vacation. He now went to a special school, the Hogwarts Institute for Emotional Unstable Children. The thing that hurt Christine the most was that Malcolm now believed he was a magical sorcerer who was studying witchcraft. She wept when she thought of the tenuous hold he had on reality.

She flashed back to that horrible scene, during the Christmas break. She had encountered two of Malcolm's classmates making wild passionate love in the park with the complete disregard of their surroundings. Well, it was only an innocent kiss, but that was because they were only starting. Christine knew what these things led to. And Malcolm, poor dear little Malcolm, was now sitting in her classroom, and she had one slim chance to rescue this deluded young child lost in the maze that was his own mind.

"Class, come to order please," Christine Miller called out, "are there any questions before we begin?"

One boy raised his hand and said, "I'd like to ask Malcolm if they fly brooms at the magic school he goes to."

Christine was aghast. "That is not something to make fun of. Malcolm, don't listen to what I am about to say. As for the rest of you, I am ashamed. Here we have a boy who cannot even tell the difference between what is real and what is only a fantasy coming from the depths of his shattered little mind. He has spent most of a year in the hands of specialists trying to regain at least a skeletal framework of awareness and you treat him as a joke. You can listen now, Malcolm. So you see, class, in a sense, Malcolm does go to a magic school, and it is because of their magic that Malcolm can be here with us today. Are there any other questions?"

[Watching Miss Miller freak out is the best part of coming to these seminars. I like the way she always starts to cry whenever she looks at me.]

Stevie raised his hand, "Miss . . . Miller, I think . . . Malcolm . . . listened when . . . you told him . . . not to."

"Is that true, Malcolm?" she asked.

"Well, yes," Malcolm said, "but only to hear when I should start listening again."

"You see, Stevie, it's all right," Christine said, then added in a loud whisper, "Thank you for keeping an eye on him."

"Does she really believe I didn't hear that?" Malcolm whispered to his friend.

"What are you whispering about, Malcolm?" the teacher asked.

"I was just asking him what you said," Malcolm replied.

"And I . . . didn't . . . tell him," Stevie added.

"And you shouldn't, Stevie," Miss Miller said, "and you, Malcolm, shouldn't pry into other people's conversations."

"Yes, Ma'am," Malcolm said, and hung his head as though ashamed.

"Oh, no, Malcolm," Christine Miller said, suddenly distraught, "I didn't mean to criticize you. I meant it in a good way. I'm sorry. I'm sorry." She burst into tears and fled the classroom.

"So, Malcolm," the boy asked, "Do they fly brooms at your new school?"

"No," Malcolm lied.

"Show us some magic," another boy coaxed.

"Can't," Malcolm said, "They waited until the last day of school to tell us we're not allowed to use magic at home."

"I don't . . . think . . . she's coming back," Stevie said. As though it was a signal, everyone got up and left. Christine Miller returned five minutes later, once again in control of herself, to find the classroom completely empty.

As Malcolm left the classroom, a familiar voice called out to him. Stevie pointed out the blond-haired boy who had called.

"Draco, What are you doing here?"

"You invited me to spend a couple of days with you," Draco said, "assuming anyone asks."

"Okay," Malcolm said, "and what are you doing here?"

"I had one more day before I have to return home, and I thought I would pay you a visit, for real. Hello, again, Stevie."

"Hi . . . Draco," Stevie said, "Welcome back . . . to the . . . States."

"Thank you," Draco said, "I'm supposed to invite Malcolm to spend the weekend at the manor. I'd love to invite you as well. Father would have a fit."

"I. . .understand . . . why you . . . don't . . . invite me," Stevie said.

"You don't understand," Draco said, "that is why I want to invite you. Father would have a fit."

The laughter died down as Miss Miller walked around the corner looking for her students. She spotted Malcolm and Stevie, then recognized the third boy. She turned around and went back around the corner.

  
  


Reese looked up as Malcolm walked in with his friend. "Drakster, my man," he called out.

Draco waved back, smiling. Reese took this as a challenge, and got up to face the young Slytherin. "Why aren't you afraid of me?" He asked, "You can't use any magic to protect yourself. Malcolm told me."

Draco smiled even wider, and said, "Reese, you should never bully a bully. I have to report to the Ministry of Magic, should I cast any spells. Here, however, I am outside their jurisdiction." He emphasized this by pulling out his wand and pointing it at the American boy.

Reese understood quite clearly the meaning of such multi syllabic words as 'jurisdiction.' In a rational act, he decided to go to the park early, to meet his friend Steve, stopping only long enough to open the front door. As the door closed, Lois entered the living room, "Have you seen Reese?"

"He just left, Mom. Draco wants to know if I can spend the weekend at his house?"

"Damn that kid," Lois said, "He always knows when I have work for him to do. Ask your father. I think he wanted to do something with you boys this weekend."

"No, I don't," Hal called out. He hurried into the living room, and whispered to Lois. "Listen, Francis has gone camping, and Reese is going to that Quidditch game with the Longbottom kid. If we let Malcolm go, and we get rid of Dewey, we're alone for two whole days."

Lois turned to Malcolm, and said, "You can go, but you have to take Dewey with you."

"How soon can you leave?" Hal asked.

Malcolm trudged off in disgust. He gets to spend time with his best friend, but he has to drag his little brother along. He found Dewey, and told him what was up.

"I don't want to go," Dewey complained.

"Then you can spend the weekend alone with Mom and Dad," Malcolm snapped back.

Dewey picked up his backpack and said, "I'm ready."

The three headed back to the living room, and approached the fireplace. Using floo powder, they quickly left the house, and reappeared at Malfoy Manor. Hal ran and locked the front door, and followed Lois into the bedroom.

  
  


Reese ran into Steve's father at the park, only to receive some bad news. Steve had been caught sneaking out with his father's broom, and was grounded. His father explained to Reese that the weekend plans were cancelled. Reese headed back to the house, but couldn't get in. No one answered his knocks, although he could hear noises from inside the house. He was found, lying in front of the door, cold and hungry, on Monday morning, when Hal accidentally stepped on him on his way to work.


	2. Malfoy Manor

CHAPTER 3: MALFOY MANOR 

Draco cheerfully greeted his father, "You do remember Malcolm."

"A pleasure," Lucius Malfoy said with honest sincerity as he greeted his young guest. Turning to Dewey, he asked, condescendingly, "And who are you, young man?"

"Could I really have gotten here by saying Diagon Alley?" Dewey asked.

"That's my brother, Dewey," Malcolm said, "My mom made me take him along."

"Yes," Lucius said, as he stared at his uninvited guest, "We can find a place for him."

"Do you have any dungeons?" Malcolm asked Draco, who nodded smiling.

"I can take care of him, Father," Draco offered, "That will give you a chance to talk privately."

Draco led Dewey out of the room, while the young boy asked, excitedly, "Do you really have a dungeon?"

"And how was your first year of schooling, Malcolm? I've heard several good things about you."

"It was fun, Sir," Malcolm said, "Especially with Draco there."

Lucius chuckled, and said, "I have several things to thank you for. You talked my son out of his plan with the dementors, and probably saved his life. It was a bold plan, but foolish, and I am glad he listened to your advice. I appreciate the help you give him. If I may ask about the Weasley girl, is there any hope for a relationship between the two?"

[I remember the plan. Get her to like him and tick off her folks. The problem is they already have a relationship with each other. If you can define attempting to murder each other with insults as a relationship.]

"I think so," Malcolm said, "Mr. Weasley thinks that it might be good for Draco."

Lucius gave a look showing that he was hoist by his own petard. "What will happen, will happen," he said with regret.

Changing the subject, he told Malcolm, "I've discussed your situation with a few of my friends, and they would like to meet you. If they are as impressed with you as I am, they will consider sponsoring your education. Do you know what that means?"

[Everything but money, I bet.]

Lucius laughed lightly as he said, "It means that you will have everything you'll need for a proper education. Tuition, books, Miscellaneous expenses, they will all be taken care of."

[I was right.]

"That sounds wonderful, Mr. Malfoy," Malcolm said, "but why me? I'm not a pureblood wizard."

"That's been taken care of," Lucius said, "Don't even give it a second thought."

[Why do I have the feeling I was just lied to?]

Malcolm hesitated, then brought up a new subject, "I need to ask you, Mister Malfoy, uh, Ginny told me about a diary . . . "

Lucius gave him a look of surprise, which changed to a mixture of pride and sadness. "That is the one thing that endears you to me, Malcolm. Anyone else would have heard that story and condemned me. But you waited. You held your judgement until you heard all of the facts. I can't help but admire your fairness."

Lucius showed Malcolm to a seat, and continued, "I will assume she told you the entire story, so you know that the diary was not intended for her. Of course, if I had known how powerful that book was, I would have kept it locked up. My goal was to deliberately humiliate someone I despised. I don't know if you can relate to that." Lucius gave Malcolm a conspiratorial wink. Remembering Pansy Parkinson, Malcolm returned the wink.

"As I was saying," Lucius continued, "I did not understand the power of that book. I can only be grateful to the Potter boy, and I hate admitting that, for what he did." Lucius took up a lecturing voice, and said, "Don't think that I wasn't punished for what I did, Malcolm. I was, harshly but fairly. That is why I am no longer on the School Board. Add to that the indignity of having my house searched, and several heirlooms confiscated because of their potential for misuse. I won't bother mentioning the fines I had to pay. They were hefty, but nothing I couldn't afford. I think the worst was the public embarrassment. I am still trying to recover from that."

Lucius smiled at Malcolm and said, "If you would rather have nothing to do with me, I understand, and I won't hold it against you. If you like, I will even let people know that your friendship with Draco does not extend to me. It will keep you at a safe distance."

[Wow. He is smooth. I've got to give him the benefit of the doubt. After all, he admitted it. It's more than I would have done.]

Malcolm laughed a little, and said, "I don't think knowing you will hurt my reputation at all."

"I don't know if that is a good thing, or a bad thing," Lucius said with a laugh of his own, "but I promise this. If you accept the offer my friends make, it will give you an advantage in the wizarding world, for whatever goal you strive for."

"Like money?" Malcolm asked, hopefully.

Lucius laughed at the look on Malcolm's face. He was a greedy little b . . . oy after his own heart. "In the long run, yes, but don't hold your breath," Lucius said, cheerfully. He turned to his wife, Narcissa, who was walking into the parlor, and told her, "Darling, please let me introduce you to our young protege, Malcolm."

"The pleasure is mine," Narcissa said, as she greeted Malcolm. She then leaned over and told him, "your little brother is charming. Thank you for bringing him along."

"You're welcome," Malcolm said carefully.  
  


"I don't want to wear it," Dewey yelled, as Malcolm force-dressed him in the robe.

"I don't care," Malcolm yelled back, "This is a fancy house, and everyone here dresses this way." Finished, he dragged Dewey to a full length mirror.

"I look like a girl," Dewey complained, as he looked at himself in the mirror.

"You look fine," Malcolm said, "everyone is wearing robes."

"I still look like a girl," Dewey complained, "I hate this place."

"Dewey," Malcolm yelled, "Five minutes ago, you loved this place. Make up your mind."

Narcissa Malfoy walked in on them, demanding to know what the yelling was all about. She saw Dewey crying and knelt in front of him. "What is wrong, my little darling? Please tell Aunt Narcissa."

Through his sobs, Dewey told her, "Malcolm says these robes make me look like a girl."

"I did not, You lying little creep," Malcolm yelled.

Narcissa turned her head sharply to look at Malcolm. "How dare you," she said angrily. "As smart as you are, you should know to appreciate your family, and not torment your brother for a cheap laugh." She turned back to Dewey and said, more cheerfully, "Malcolm doesn't know what he's talking about. You are quite the dashing figure in those robes, you handsome little devil."

"Really," Dewey said, drying his eyes.

"Really," Narcissa said, "Why don't we go down to dinner now, so I can show you off to everyone" She added, sharply, "Your brother can join us when he's matured a little more. I'll send Draco by when it is time, Malcolm."

[I hate that scheming runt. On the other hand, I know where he hides Mr. Teddy.]

Twenty minutes later, Draco came by to find a very annoyed Malcolm, in the middle of the room, making plans out loud. He smiled at the reference to a teddy bear and sharp knives.

"Your brother is the center of attention," Draco said cheerfully, "And father is talking about getting rid of you, already. What did you do?"

"I let Dewey open his mouth," Malcolm complained, "He said he looked like a girl, and then he told your mom that I said it."

"I like the fact that he can cry on cue," Draco added.

They walked downstairs, and into the dining room, to find Dewey cheerfully talking to a couple of men, and showing off his new robes. Then Malcolm smiled as Dewey made a mistake.

"I hope your brother is half as wonderful as you are," MacNair said, as he patted the boy's head. "If he impresses us, he, and you, will have a bright future."

"He will," Dewey said, "He's smart. He even helped me pick out these robes."

[Mrs. Malfoy heard that. Goodbye little brother, your game is up.]

"Dewey," Narcissa said, "You said he told you, you looked like a girl."

"I'm sorry," Dewey said, "I never wore robes before, and I . . . " His voice trailed off as he debated whether to run or cry.

"You little imp," Narcissa laughed, "You should have told me."

[How does he do that? I can't do that. I get grounded. I get detention. I get arrested. He gets a hug and an extra cookie. Dewey isn't even cute. I don't care. I'm getting angry. When we get home, Mr. Teddy dies. And it won't be pretty.]

"Please Join me, young man," the old man, who called himself Osgoode, said, "We can talk about a few things during dinner."

As they sat down around the table, Malcolm between Draco and Osgoode, the old man showed Malcolm a piece of parchment, "This is a list of some of the students that our group sponsors." He rolled the parchment up and asked, "Do you think you are smart enough to get on this list?"

"Mr. Osgoode," Malcolm said, "There are 28 names on that parchment. If you add together the total number of days that each student has lived, the number is 148,736. The square of that number is 22,122,397,696, and its square root is 385.663. The square divided by the square root is 57,361,991.417377. The average age of the persons listed is 14 years, 6 months, and 18 days . . . "

"Stop," MacNair interrupted, "How can you know that?"

Malcolm smiled.

"I am impressed," the old man said. "You may be smart, but you are also clever. That was a wonderful little show." He turned to his young aide, and said, "MacNair, I don't know how you feel, but I am willing to add him to the list."

"His family history, alone, impressed me," MacNair said. "That, and the good things I've heard about him from the school."

"It does explain why Dumbledore was so quick to admit him," Lucius said. "You would have been a prize for any school, Malcolm."

Malcolm stared at Draco and at his father, wondering what was going on.

[I have to ask Draco. What's this about my family history?]  
  


When the main course was served, Malcolm ended up staring at his plate, while Draco leaned over and asked, "Why aren't you eating?"

"Draco, what is this stuff. I don't even recognize any of it."

"That small greyish lump is a pate` of veal, I think, or it might be . . . no . . . I'm not sure, but it tastes like chicken. The vegetables are an oriental medley, I think." Draco stopped and said, "I don't really know either. I divide it into three categories, tastes like chicken, some kind of vegetable, and probably liver."

"This grey stuff is definitely liver," Malcolm said, stabbing a small piece of meat, "I'll try the 'tastes like chicken' one. Mmm. Not bad."

"I see you like the escargot, Malcolm," Narcissa Malfoy said politely.

[ Oh God. I just ate a snail.]

"Now, I remember," Draco said, grinning, "I keep forgetting my French. And by the way, don't ask about the pate`."

Malcolm looked around him as he ate. Osgoode was talking with Lucius and MacNair about how to deal with the idiots in the government. On the other side, Draco and his mother were laughing at Dewey, as the boy tried to explain all about snails. Malcolm looked down at his plate of 'tastes like chicken,' and decided he wasn't hungry.  
  


"Did you get the sponsorship, Malcolm?" Lois asked.

"Yeah, Mom," Malcolm said, "but it was weird. It was like talking to a room full of lawyers. They never said what they meant. It's like they were telling me to let them be really nice to me or they'd be really mean."

"It's simple, Malcolm," Lois explained, "They are helping you, because they think that when you grow up you will help them. It's like when we spent all of that money to give Reese those flute lessons, and he broke his flute the first day, fighting with that tuba player. You'll do fine, Malcolm. Just don't break your flute."

[I remember that flute. Reese had to remain standing up for a week. It was great, especially during the last couple days when he became delusional because of lack of sleep. I still have those pictures hidden away.]

"Mom, doesn't it worry you that I can do magic?"

"Of course it does, Malcolm. It worried me when I found out that you were smarter than me, but I deal with it. Your learning how to use your talents, and I trust you to do your best. I worry about Reese ever graduating high school, and Francis getting his life together and Dewey's imaginary friend, Peeves."

"Peeves isn't imaginary, Mom. He's a poltergeist who lives at the school."

Lois smiled sweetly at her soon to be twelve-year-old son, and said, "You and Reese may divide all of Dewey's toys between you, and you have my permission to use those firecrackers the two of you have been hiding. The only rule is that Dewey is there when you light them."

"Thanks, Mom. I'll go tell Reese."


	3. The Chapter With No Name

AN: VMortitia wondered why Lucius likes Malcolm. This is one of those things that seemed obvious to me. It is simple. Malcolm is clearly a very smart kid. He has a great deal of potential in the wizarding world. Lucius is a self-serving (expletive deleted). He sees nothing wrong with being friendly to a young wizard of dubious background who can become a valuable worker. Imagine Malcolm trying to figure out how to perform Dark Magic. Lucius does, and looks forward to the day he can profit from his investment.

As to Dewey, I have no idea why the Death Eaters, or anybody else for that matter, would put up with him. I can only assume that they think that Malcolm might become upset. Personally, I would give it a shot, if I could, but he's a character in the story and I can't kill him off without permission from Fox.

My thanks to everyone for reading and reviewing.

As a plug to another author, Aracelis, has an HP/Enchanted Forest crossover called Un-Parallels (storyid 771138). It is listed under book crossovers. (End Commercial)

  
  
  
  
CHAPTER 4: THE CHAPTER WITH NO NAME 

"Don't, Malcolm, Please," Dewey cried, "Not Mister Teddy."

"Sorry, Dewey, I have to," Malcolm said smiling, as he inserted two firecrackers into the mouth of the teddy bear.

"He's right, Malcolm," Reese said, "Don't do it. It's his last toy. Wait here."

Reese ran into the garage and came back shortly with a can of lighter fluid, and a cherry bomb. He added the cherry bomb to the two firecrackers and liberally doused the teddy bear with the lighter fluid. Then he lit a match and prepared to throw it on the bear, but Malcolm stopped him.

"I don't think we should start a fire in the back yard. I've got an idea."

Malcolm ran into the house and came back with his old rocket kit. He primed the air pump as much as he could, and placed the rocket on the launcher. The teddy bear was impaled on the rocket and doused with more lighter fluid. As Reese threw the match onto the bear, Malcolm hit the launch button. The flaming projectile flew up for 100 feet, then exploded, sending burning shards of bear in every direction.

"That was really cool," Reese said, as the sounds of the fire engines could be heard in the distance. "I wish we could do it again."

"I still have one more rocket, " Malcolm said, "but Dewey's out of toys."

"We'll wait until his birthday, then," Reese said, as they watched the firemen put out the blaze on their neighbor's roof.

"Boys," Hal called out into the yard, "Officer Murdoch is here and would like to talk to you. And Malcolm, your friend Ginny is here." He walked into the yard and asked, "Dewey, have you seen your brothers?"

"No, Dad," Dewey said, "They went to the park this morning and haven't come back yet."

"Oh," Hal said, confused, and went back into the house.  
  


"And you are?" Officer Murdoch asked.

"Ginny Weasley, Sir," the girl said, "I've only just arrived. I am a schoolmate of Malcolm."

"You're English?"

"Yes, the school we go to is in England."

"And you just got here?"

"Yes, Sir."

Officer Murdoch looked at the soot marks on the shoulder of her dress, and nodded to himself. He turned to Hal, and said, "Since you can't verify where she was when the explosion took place, sir, I will have to escort her downtown. She shows signs of definite involvement."

"This is ridiculous," Ginny said as the police officer escorted her to his car.

"If you could have her parents contact us," Murdoch asked, "these are serious charges."

Hal waved to Ginny as the policeman drove away, then went over to watch the firemen at work.

"Hi Dad," Malcolm said, as he and Reese innocently walked up.

"What happened next door?" Reese asked in complete surprise.

"Oh, Malcolm, It was your friend, Ginny. She came by while the two of you were gone, and threw a firebomb at the neighbor's house. The Police spotted her sneaking into our house."

"Dad," Malcolm said, "Ginny would have arrived IN the house. They couldn't have seen her sneaking in."

"I know that," Hal said, sarcastically, "but what was I supposed to do. Tell them she's a witch." He concluded, whining, "Everybody says not to say anything."

[This is great, Ginny pays me a surprise visit, and now I have to get her out of jail.]

"Malcolm," his dad said, "Call her parents and let them know."

"They don't have a phone," Malcolm said.

"Well, You figure out what to do," Hal whined, "or I'll tell your mother all about it when she gets home."

Malcolm decided to go for some advice. He took some floo powder, called out Malfoy Manor, and stepped into the fireplace. He found himself in the foyer, and looked around for someone.

"This is a great place," Reese said from behind him.

"What are you doing here?" Malcolm said.

"Following you," Reese replied, "If you can't fix this, then I don't want to be around Mom when she gets home."

[I apologize for saying Reese never has an intelligent thought.]

"May I help you?" the butler said, as he entered the foyer.

"Yeah, is Draco around. It's kind of an emergency," Malcolm said.

"Wait here," the butler said, then turned to Reese, adding, "and do not take anything. It's all been cursed. " He waited until Reese put back the figurine, then smiled and left to fetch the young master.

Draco came into the foyer, followed by his father. "What happened, Malcolm?" Lucius asked in a serious tone.

"It's his fault," Reese said, pointing at Malcolm.

"It was not," Malcolm said, "you were the one with the cherry bomb and the lighter fluid."

"It was your rocket," Reese added.

Turning back to the Malfoys, Malcolm said, "Okay. It was my fault a little bit, but that isn't the problem. Ginny Weasley paid me a surprise visit, and was arrested for setting fire to the house next door."

Lucius Malfoy stared in disbelief. "I didn't know she was that type. You should be thankful that she did not get the right house. But if she is in custody, why is it a problem?"

"He's right Malcolm," Reese said, "It isn't a problem. We have a perfect alibi. Everybody knows that the school you go to is really a loony bin."

"A Loony Bin?" Lucius asked.

"Yeah," Reese said, "You know, a nut house, a home for fruitcakes."

"An asylum, father," Draco answered, "The Hogwarts Institute for Incurable Adolescents."

"Interesting," Lucius said, confused, "but how does that help the situation?"

"That's easy," Reese said, gleefully. "Ginny told the cops that she goes there as well. That puts us in the clear."

"The Weasley girl is in the hands of muggle authorities?" Lucius asked in amazement.

"Malcolm," Draco interjected, "you show up in the middle of supper, making no sense, and now my food is getting cold." Draco said, "What happened, and what do you expect us to do about it?"

"All we were doing was blowing up Dewey's toy's." Malcolm explained, "It was an accident that when the teddy bear exploded, the flaming head landed on the neighbor's roof."

"Please, watch your language young man," Lucius admonished.

"Oh, no sir," Malcolm explained, "I wasn't cursing or anything. The head was in flames when it landed on the roof."

"What did you think he meant?" Reese asked, honestly confused.

"Back to Draco's question," Lucius said, "What do you expect us to do?"

Malcolm stopped and considered, "I only wanted to know what to do when something like this happens. I didn't mean for Reese to follow me."

"Yes, he did," Reese said.

"Malcolm," Lucius admonished, "Go home, and cast a Lumos spell, or something else that is HARMLESS. When someone shows up to investigate the unauthorized use of magic, explain the matter to them. They can handle it."

"But Malcolm will get in trouble for using magic," Draco said, then stopped. "Sorry, father," he said with a grin, "I keep forgetting, it's Malcolm."

"Draco," Lucius said, brusquely. "Why don't you go with Malcolm and help him?" He smiled at his son and said, "It never hurts to help someone when it could help you in the end."

"May I bring my camera?" Draco asked, "I'd love to get a picture of the Weasley girl."

As the three boys stepped back through the fireplace into Malcolm's living room, Draco said, "you may want to try contacting her parents, and let them know what you did."

"How?" asked Malcolm.

"Try calling them through the floo network, or visiting them the way you did me. I am sure they would love to have THEIR supper disturbed."

Malcolm gave Draco a clear and intelligent look, "I don't know where the Weasleys live. I tried Weasley Manor and Weasley House, but nothing happened."

Draco took some floo powder and threw it into the fire. "The Burrow," he said, then turned to Malcolm and said, "Just walk into the fireplace and it will take you there."

Too late, he noticed Reese smile, and felt the push. Off balance, he fell back into the flames and was whisked away.

"Reese, you jerk," Malcolm said, "Why did you do that? The Malfoys and the Weasleys hate each other."

"Yeah," Reese said, and started laughing.

"Quick, what was the name he called out," Malcolm asked.

Reese stopped his laughing and said, "I don't know. The burger or something. It sounded like food."

"Forget it," Malcolm said angrily and went to get his wand. He waved it in the air and called out, "Lumos." A light appeared at the end of his wand, but nothing else happened. Malcolm tried a few more spells, but he still received no reaction. No magical message appeared, no investigator showed up. Nothing happened.

In disgust, Malcolm went out into the yard and got his father. "Dad, I don't know what else to do. Can you go down and bail Ginny out?"

"No, son. I don't have the money. Thanks to all those times with Francis, it has to be cash up front."

Malcolm walked back to the house, wondering what to do. He would have to wait for Draco to come back, or one of the Weasleys to appear.

[I know the Weasleys. They'll let him explain what he's doing there, before they kill him.]  
  


"Ginny's coming back," Ron called out, as he heard the telltale sounds from the fireplace.

"Wonderful," Mrs. Weasley said, "I hope she brings Malcolm with her. I would like to meet him, finally."

As she finished speaking, a figure rolled out of the fire play and landed with a thud on his back. Draco Malfoy let out a soft groan, as he tried to move. "Damn that Reese," he muttered.

"Do not use language like that in my house," Molly said, then asked in all sincerity if Draco was injured.

"Mostly my pride," Draco admitted, as he got up and looked around at all of the hostile faces. "Malcolm should be following me to explain everything," he added hopefully.

It became clear that Malcolm was not coming, and that Draco would now have to explain. When Arthur Weasley demanded said explanation or else, Draco spoke up, "I don't understand the full story, but Ginny has been arrested by the muggle authorities for attempted to blow up Malcolm's house. For some reason, however, she got the wrong house."

"How can you come here and lie about my sister like that, you stinking git?" Ron hissed.

"That was what Malcolm told my father," Draco said, with a sneer, "I'm only repeating what I heard."

"And why were you at Malcolm's house?" Molly demanded.

"I don't know," Draco said in defeat, "My father thought it would be useful if I helped."

"Useful?" Arthur asked, as every Weasley present listened intently. "Useful for what?"

Draco watched as Molly and Arthur huddled together to talk. The Weasel stared at him with pure venom in his eyes. "Excuse me," Draco asked, "can I borrow some floo powder, so I can leave? I am sure we would all appreciate it."

"You're taking us to Malcolm's house, Mister Malfoy," Arthur said sternly. "I want a few more answers before I'm free of you. Or do you want to explain to the Ministry why you were trespassing in my home."

"Fine," Draco said, "You don't care if you're a laughingstock, so you threaten to make me one."

Arthur grabbed Draco by the robes and looked him in the eye. "Listen to me, you slimy cretin. You barge into my house, telling me that Ginny is in a prison. Then you tell me that you and your father have designs on my daughter. I am not in a mood to play word games."

"You do not have the right . . . " Draco said.

"I have every right," Arthur said, "and I will protect my family. I will protect my daughter from the likes of you."

"I gave her my word," Draco managed to sneer back. "And a Malfoy NEVER breaks his word."

"Arthur," Molly said, nervously, "let him go. We'll get him out of here and be done with it."  
  


"He's at it again," someone said.

"Can you tell what he's doing now?" David Winter asked of his colleague. He was part of the Department of Magic, and had been permanently assigned as Malcolm's observer. This was the main reason he was in the Office of Magical Supervision. It was also the main reason he was looking into an early retirement.

"It's just simple spells," the man at the monitor said, "basic stuff. What are you going to do?"

David picked up his coffee cup, and said, "He's probably putting on a show for his friends. I'll wait until he's done, then I'll bring the bad news."

He finished the coffee, then apparated to Malcolm's house. Outside he could hear a car driving away, but inside there was no sound whatsoever.

Dewey came into the kitchen, holding a smoldering teddy bear, and said, "Hi, Mr. Winter?"

"Hello, Dewey. Have you seen Malcolm?"

"No Sir. He and Reese went to the park this morning and they haven't come back yet."

David Winter looked surprised, "Have you been playing with Malcolm's wand, by any chance?"

"He took it with him," Dewey said, and watched as the puzzled wizard bid him goodbye, and disapparated.

Dewey turned around as he heard a noise in the living room.  
  


Draco came out of the fireplace, and landed with a thud on the floor. Arthur and Molly Weasley soon followed to find Draco cursing.

"Malcolm, Reese," Draco called out, but received no answer.

"Where is everybody?" Arthur asked, testily.

"I don't know," Draco said in the same tone, "I only arrived, myself."

"Is anybody else coming?" Dewey asked, holding the charred remains of a teddy bear, minus its head. Draco stared as little wisps of smoke continued to rise out of it.

"They had better not," Molly said, thinking about the twins.

"Dewey, Where's Malcolm?" Draco asked.

"He went to the park," Dewey answered, "He hasn't been back."

"I know where the park is," Draco told the Weasleys. "I'll go get him if you like."

Draco went to Malcolm's room, found some clothes that fit, and changed out of his robes. After an exchange of words with the Weasleys, he left his wand behind, then went to find Malcolm.

When he arrived at the park, Draco recognized Christine Miller. She was talking with two policemen,

"I tried to help him. He's a very disturbed little boy." She turned around and saw Draco, and said, "That's the boy who was with her in the park, last year. He's her lover or something depraved like that."

"I'm sorry to bother you," the policeman said, with a friendly smile, "Miss Miller is a bit high strung. I only need to see some ID, please."

"I don't have any with me," Draco admitted, "I was looking for Malcolm. I was told he was here."

"We're looking for him, as well," the policeman said, his smile fading slightly, "Could I please have your full name and address, and a phone number where I can reach your parents?"

"I'm visiting with Malcolm," Draco said weakly, "and my parents don't have a phone."

"Could I have your full name?" the officer said. The smile was gone.

Draco turned around and ran into the cop standing behind him. After a brief struggle, he was handcuffed and led to the police cruiser.  
  


Lois walked into the living room through the open front door, and spotted two robed strangers. "What did Malcolm do now?" she asked.

"Hello, Lois. I'm Molly Weasley, Ginny's mother, and this is my husband, Arthur. We talked through the fireplace. Ginny wanted to surprise your son, Malcolm"

"Hi, Molly, Arthur. It's nice meeting you in person. What did Malcolm do this time?"

"It's hard to explain," Arthur began.

"Isn't that the truth," Lois said with a laugh, "nothing is ever easy with those boys."

Molly looked worried. "Ginny came here, by way of the floo network, to invite Malcolm to supper. A while later, that ruffian, Draco Malfoy, showed up in our home, and told us that Ginny had been arrested by muggle authorities for trying to blow up your house. He left an hour ago, to find Malcolm, and he hasn't returned. I thought he might have run out on us, but he left his wand behind, and a wizard would never do that."

Lois called to Dewey, ignoring the charred bear, and questioned him. She then went looking for Hal, who was hiding in the car. "I wasn't hiding, Lois. I was waiting for Malcolm, to take him downtown to pick up Ginny. I fell asleep. I don't know where they are."  
  


"We sure are lucky we ran into you, Francis," Reese said, "Dad won't do anything and Mom will kill us when she finds out."

"You have to understand Dad's position," Francis said coolly, "The key word here is liability. If Dad said anything, we could all be moving to a split-level cardboard box. Remember, Dad did the right thing."

"Are you sure this will work, Francis?" Malcolm asked as they walked into the police station.

"Malcolm, trust me. I have plenty of experience with this. Hi, Mike. Hi, Jerry."

"Hi, Francis. Turning yourself in?" asked one of the cops.

"Just picking up a friend, Mike," Francis said, "Malcolm, I know what I'm doing."

They walked up to the desk, and Francis showed his ID. "Francis, you're not twenty-three yet," the clerk said, and handed back the ID. "What can I do for you?"

"I'm here to pick up a minor, Virginia Weasley, A.K.A. Ginny Weasley. She was arrested for arson and possession of explosives."

"That would be Officer Murdoch," the clerk said, "I think he was just scaring you. She was involved in an incident in your neighborhood. Something about a flying teddy bear."

Francis looked aghast. "She was arrested because of a flying teddy bear. This is unforgivable. This is outrageous. Do you realize that her parents are in the British Government? This could be an international incident. We are talking about severe repercussions. And over a flying teddy bear."

Several police officers applauded as Francis finished his tirade. The clerk laughed, and said, "Francis, Murdoch had to do something. She had soot on her clothes, she was obviously a stranger, and your father refused to vouch for her once Murdoch mentioned possible trouble. If you can verify that you do know her, I can release her into your custody," then he leaned forward and whispered, "keep your ID handy."

Francis signed a release form, and Malcolm and Reese watched as Ginny was escorted from her holding cell. Reese tapped Malcolm's shoulder, as Draco was walked into the police station. The arresting officer walked him to the desk, labeling him as a possible runaway. Malcolm tapped Francis on the shoulder and pointed. Francis turned to the clerk and said, "We'll be taking him as well."

"I've called everywhere," Lois said, "no one has seen Malcolm or Reese. I've just talked to the police and they have no one there by Ginny's name. Would she have given them a false name?"

"Why would our daughter do that?" Molly asked.

"I was just asking." Lois said, "My sons would do it in a heartbeat."

"Francis is back," Hal called out, as the station wagon pulled up, "I think he has someone with him."

"What happened?" Lois demanded when they walked into the house.

"Nothing, Mom," Francis said. "Ginny had some soot on her clothes from the fireplace, and a policeman thought she might have had some part in a suspicious fire. He took her in because she had no ID, and no one could vouch for her."

"And that was all?" Lois asked, refusing to believe the lie.

"Yes, Mother," Francis said, "it is the truth. You can even ask Ginny. When she got here, no one was home. The policeman saw her wandering around. He left word, and when Malcolm told me, we drove down to pick her up. End of story."

"Yeah, right," Lois said, "Your father spilled the beans over an hour ago."

"Where's Malfoy?" Arthur asked.

"He's outside," Ginny said, "Draco thought you would prefer it that way. I told him he should come in."

"Ginny, I should warn you about him," her father said.

"I know, Daddy. Draco told me."

"He told you? When you were in the car?" Molly asked in surprise.

"He told me when we were at the Longbottoms, Mum," Ginny said, reminding them of the magazine article.

Molly looked at Arthur and said, "Maybe the son isn't as bad as the father?"

Ginny laughed, "Draco hasn't had as much experience. Give him time and he will be."

Arthur laughed with his daughter, and Molly joined in. The reunited family returned to the Burrow for a late meal.

Four hours later, Draco knocked on the door, and Dewey answered. "Have they left yet?" he asked.

"Nope, they're still talking away," Dewey said, and closed the door.

"Who was that?" Lois called.

"Just a salesman," Dewey called back.

"When it rains, it pours," Lois said to Hal, "After everything that's happened today, we've had three salesmen come to our door all in the same afternoon."

"It's a good thing we have Dewey," Hal said, "He's a wizard at getting rid of them."

  
  



	4. A Weekend Visit

CHAPTER 5: A WEEKEND VISIT 

Malcolm, in the middle of his reveries, looked up to see his mom standing over him.

[Just before the end of school, last year, I ran off to London with Draco. But they were really nice about it. They let my mom punish me. Except for the occasional weekend, I get to do all the odd jobs my dad never did. Yesterday, mom ran out of chores and decided we needed a garden.]

"That's enough for today," Lois said, "Hurry up and shower. Draco will be here shortly."

Malcolm picked himself up, and dusted the dirt off his pants. "What's going on?"

"You and Draco," Lois said, "You're visiting a friend at that hospital."

"Why didn't you tell me, before?" Malcolm asked, annoyed and relieved at the same time.

"Because you're going to talk to that psychiatrist while you're there," Lois said.

"You know about that?" Malcolm said in surprise.

"Of course I do," Lois said, laughing. "The school tells me everything. I know about your air sickness, that time you ran into the troll, that mean trick you pulled on that cat. I even know about Dewey running around buck naked in the rain."

"You know about Dewey?" Malcolm asked in surprise.

"Of course I do. Do you think I would let him disappear all the time and not worry? That man, Dumbledore, talks to me regularly about what you've been doing, and what Dewey is up to. I know all about you," Lois said with a grin.

"I also know that Draco's parents don't know he's going to the hospital, that they think he's spending the entire weekend here." Lois looked at Malcolm and said, "Don't worry. I won't tell. Albus explained enough of it to me. I don't approve, but I'm willing to keep my mouth shut because my darling little boy is going to talk to the nice doctor."

[Damn.]

  
  


"Francis, what do I do?" Malcolm asked, as he put on a clean shirt. "Draco is waiting for me, and I'll have to talk to a shrink."

"Don't worry about it," Francis said, "they're all alike. He'll have his mind made up before you walk in the door. Just keep it simple, and get out as fast as you can."

"That isn't much help," Malcolm said, sadly.

"You could do what I did," Francis said, "Tell him that you do have emotional problems and offer him some money to agree with you. He'll label you sane out of spite, or, as in my case, let you pick your own psychosis."

  
  


"Your mother knows everything?" Draco said, as they waited in the hospital lobby.

"Just that she's doing you a favor," Malcolm muttered, "and now I have to talk to some doctor."

The nurse came to escort Malcolm, and Draco gave him a thumbs up, and a big grin. Malcolm was led into an office and sat down across from a young woman. "Good evening, Malcolm," she said, smiling. "I am Doctor Spencer, and you are the last of my patients in what has been a long day. How do you feel, because I am tired?"

"Well," Malcolm said, "I haven't had lunch yet, so I could come back."

Dr. Spencer laughed and said, "I'm sorry, I'm not that tired. And I only want to get to know you, today. I promise I won't try to analyze you until our second meeting.

[Second, as in 'there will be more.']

"We could use the Viennese approach, if you prefer?" the doctor asked.

"Huh," Malcolm replied, intelligently.

"Zo, tell me," Dr. Spencer said in a fake German Accent, "Vy do you hate your mutter?"

"Because she's a control freak," Malcolm answered, "When she found out about you she made me come here,"

Dr. Spencer started laughing, "Malcolm, you're supposed to say 'I don't hate my mother.' Then I ask about your father."

Malcolm blushed, saying, "Sorry, I thought you were being serious."

Dr. Spencer laughed again, "By talking with a bad German accent? You must be nervous. What can I do to get you to relax?"

[I could suggest letting me leave.]

"You could let me leave," Malcolm said hopefully.

"Not for another forty-five minutes," the doctor said. "I'll tell you what. Why don't we talk about that problem with the trolls?"

"I don't have a problem with trolls," Malcolm said. "All right, that first time I was scared, but that was because I had never seen them before, and I didn't expect them. But when I got to talk to them, I realized they were pretty nice. Dense, but nice."

"How did you get to talk with them?" Dr. Spencer asked with genuine curiosity.

"It was after I turned Mrs. Norris yellow," Malcolm explained, to be interrupted by Doctor Spencer's laughter.

"I'm sorry, Malcolm, but you will have to tell me THAT story, next."

"Sure," Malcolm said, smiling, "Anyway, I got detention for that, and had to polish the troll's clubs. That's when I started talking to Braak. He kept losing the head bashing contests because he couldn't handle a large enough club. He showed me how he held it and hit with it, and I showed him how to hold it more like a baseball bat. He won his next five matches."

"Wonderful," Doctor Spencer said, "Now tell me about Mrs. Norris."

  
  


After his session was over, Dr. Spencer promised to talk with him again in September. She refused to say why, but said she would be coming to the school on an irregular basis. Malcolm left, and after a couple of false turns, found his way to Basil's room.

Basil was Draco's nine-year-old brother. He was also a Savant, and the Malfoys had refused to have anything to do with him. He was even listed as a patient under the name of Basil Smythe. Draco Smythe and Malcolm Smythe, his 'brothers,' were the only two people who had ever visited him.

Basil spent most of his time moving building blocks around in intricate patterns. Draco had bought him a whole box, but for some reason Basil would only take one block per visit.

Malcolm walked in as Draco was explaining to Basil about Malcolm's family and how he and his brothers always got along yet never did get along, all at the same time.

[He makes us sound normal. OH GOD, what if we are normal?]

Malcolm said hello, and Basil looked up, smiled, stopped smiling, and went back to playing with his blocks. He seemed to ignore everything the other boys said to him, but they kept talking to him, anyway, with occasional remarks to each other.

Suddenly, Basil looked up and said, in Draco's voice, "Hello, Love." He then went back to his blocks. Draco and Malcolm stared at him, then slowly turned around. There, in the doorway, stood Ginny Weasley, looking very surprised.

  
  


"I hope it's nothing serious," Molly said, nervously, as the Weasley family was escorted through the hospital. "Your mother is getting on in years."

"I know, dear," Arthur said, "but it's only a hobby, and it doesn't cost very much."

"Oh, that's all right then," Molly said with a touch of anger, "It doesn't matter how dangerous it is, as long as it's cheap."

The Weasley's walked into the room, where Grandmother Weasley was lying in bed with a cast on her leg.

"Arthur, you have to do something," his mother complained, "They want to take my flying privileges away, because of one simple accident."

"Mother, you went sideways into a tree at over one hundred miles an hour," Arthur pointed out. "That was not a SIMPLE accident."

"I think it's great, Granny," Fred said, giving a thumbs up. "The flying that is. Too bad about the broom."

"I think the children can wait in the hallway," Molly said, daring her sons and daughter to say another word.

Ginny went out into the hallway and paced while her three brothers sat in the available chairs. She walked to the next corridor and looked down out of boredom. Her eyes widened as she recognized Malcolm walking away from where she was.

"Dad," Ginny asked as she ran into her grandmother's room, "I saw a friend, and I wanted to know if I could go say hi."

"Really," Arthur Weasley said, "Who?"

"It was . . . " Ginny said, and paused, remembering the last time she saw Malcolm, ". . . Neville Longbottom."

Her father gave her a strange looked, then leaned forward and asked, "Do you know about Neville?"

Confused, but refusing to admit it, Ginny whispered back, "He told me."

Arthur smiled, and said, "Go ahead, honey. I think Neville will appreciate having a friend with him."

Ginny ran out of the room and down the long hallway. With luck, she spotted Malcolm as he turned a far corner. Drawing stares, she rushed down that hallway, until she could see where Malcolm had gone, but there was no sign of him. She walked up to the nearby reception desk, and said, "Excuse me, I'm looking for a friend, but I don't remember where to find him."

The nurse looked up and smiled, then let out a gasp, "You're her. Are the two of you still dating? Will you autograph my magazine?"

The nurse opened a file drawer, filled with magazines. She pulled out the holiday edition of the Wizard Weekly, and held out a quill. Ginny looked down at the picture of her and Draco, and noticed Draco's signature. Smiling nervously, she signed her own name beneath his. The nurse thanked her profusely, then lead her to a small room. Malcolm and Draco were sitting on the bed facing a younger boy, who was sitting on the floor, playing with blocks.

The boy looked up and, in a perfect imitation of Draco's voice, said, "Hello, Love."

  
  


"Hi," she said to the figure who now ignored her. She turned to Draco and said, "I can explain. I saw Malcolm, and I followed him."

Draco sighed, "Who did you bring with you?"

"No one," Ginny said, "I told my dad I saw someone I knew, and wanted to say hello. My grandmother is here. She had an accident while broom racing . . . "

Malcolm watched as Draco thought briefly, then inwardly sighed when his friend said, "Ginny, this is my brother, Basil. Basil, I believe you recognized Ginny from what I've told you."

Ginny joined the group, promising quickly to keep it a secret. "Mum would have a fit if she knew I ran off to see 'Draco Malfoy'," she said laughing, then turned to Basil, adding, "she'd think you were cute, though, and try and take you home."

"Ginny," Malcolm asked, "How did you get your parents to let you follow me."

"That was the weird part," Ginny said, "I started to mention your name, but I thought better of it, so I gave Neville's name instead. Then Dad asked me, quietly, how I knew about Neville. I lied and said he told me, and Dad let me go." She looked Malcolm in the eye and asked, "Do you know why Neville would be here?"

Draco's drawl sounded behind her, "because his parents are here. Like Basil, they are also permanent guests."

As Ginny visibly shook, Draco gave her a hug, and whispered, "Sorry, Love, I just gave you another secret to keep. That one isn't a secret, really. It's just that people don't talk about it."

"You could have told me another time," Ginny said, sadly.

"But what would you say when your father wanted to talk with you about it?" Draco asked.

  
  


Basil, after a while, yawned and began to lie down on the floor. The nurse came in and picked him up, putting the now sleeping child into his bed. "He tires more easily these days," she said to Draco, who stiffly nodded, and the three students left.

Draco and Malcolm looked at Ginny, then at each other. "I'll meet you in the waiting room," Draco said.

"I'll walk back with you," Malcolm said, as he took Ginny's hand.

"The two of you must know each other well, to plan this without saying a word."

"Well, you took a couple of bad shocks," Malcolm said, "we want to make sure you're okay."

"And that I don't tell any secrets," Ginny added, with a wry laugh. "Malcolm, what did the nurse mean when she said that Basil tires more easily these days."

"Ginny, Draco's parent refuse to have anything to do with Basil. He's an embarrassment. Draco only knows how his brother is, by physically coming here. What it means is that some day, soon, Draco is going to come here, and find an empty room."

"That isn't fair," Ginny said, her eyes tearing.

"I'm working on it," Malcolm said, sadly. "I'll let you know what happens."

"And Neville?"

"I don't know any more than you do, and I'd like to keep it that way, for a while."

"They walked in silence for a while, then Malcolm asked, "How did you get to the room? I know you couldn't have followed me that closely."

Ginny smiled and told him, "I was close enough to find the reception station for that section of the hospital, and the nurse recognized me. I even autographed her copy of Wizard Weekly, the one with me and Draco under the mistletoe. She was so happy to find out that we were still together." She looked up and said, "We're almost there. Would you like to meet my grandmother?"

"I better not," Malcolm said, "Draco and I should leave, before your parents do. I don't think they like him."

"You are a master of understatement," Ginny said, and blew him a kiss as she walked away. Malcolm walked back to where Draco was, and they went to the fireplace and back to Malcolm's home.

  
  


"This is called Television," Reese explained to Draco.

"I know that," Draco said, "I've been here before. What is that called that they're doing on the television?"

"It's Professional Wrestling," Reese explained.

"It looks fake," Draco said.

"It is," Malcolm said, "They rehearse all these moves, but it looks really good."

"Don't listen to him," Reese told Draco, "this is one of the most challenging sports in America today."

"No, it isn't, Reese," Malcolm answered in an annoyed tone. "They're all a bunch of fakes."

Reese punched Malcolm, and said, "take that back."

Malcolm punched Reese and said, "No, it's all fake. FAKE. FAKE. FAKE."

Reese and Malcolm went for each other and dragged Draco into the fray. Dewey watching from on top of the couch, chose his moment, and jumped in. Francis came in, picked up the remote, and changed the channel. Sitting in the chair with a bowl of popcorn, he paused to watch the scuffle on the floor. Turning off the TV, he turned the chair to better watch the fight.

  
  
  
  



	5. Judicial Review

CHAPTER 6: JUDICIAL REVIEW 

Malcolm sat in the waiting room with the other students who had multiple violations of the use of magic. The boy coming out of the office was crying with relief, while his mother thanked the review officer profusely. The review officer consoled her by saying, "It was a good thing that it was a life or death situation. Otherwise, it would have been an automatic expulsion."

The review officer handed a thin file back to the secretary to be filed away. He then picked up a hefty folder and called out Malcolm's name. Malcolm followed the man into the office, followed by his mother and David Winter.

"Malcolm," the review officer said, as he opened the folder, "I understand that you were originally scheduled to go to the Brentwood Academy, but they were very happy to release you to go to Hogwarts. If they could look at your file now, I'm sure they would be ecstatic. The standard rule here is one violation gets you a warning, two violations get you a meeting, three violations get you a dismissal. According to our records you have violated the use of magic act 183 times over the summer vacation. Should we even bother talking?"

"I can explain everything," Malcolm said, "Most of those incidents were out of necessity."

The officer laughed, "You must be joking. You HAD to use magic an average of three times a day. One day, you had to use magic 87 times. I think that may be a record."

"That was his brother Dewey," Lois explained, "there was a terrible accident and all of his toys had been destroyed. Malcolm fixed one of them, and I felt he should then fix all of them."

[That was because I had that extra rocket. Reese and I agreed not to wait, but mom caught us. Of course, when I was done fixing all his toys, Dewey's first question was, "Can I blow them up this time?"]

"Then explain the illegal use of the floo network," the officer demanded.

"I needed advice on how to deal with a problem," Malcolm said smoothly, "I went to a friend and asked his father for advice."

"He has permission to do that," David Winter said suddenly.

"Then why isn't it noted?" the review officer.

[I bet this has something to do with him not showing up when Ginny got arrested.]

"It should be in my records from Hogwarts," Malcolm offered.

"I don't have those records," the officer said, "I can't take your word for it."

"I'll vouch for him," David Winter said, "I visit his home frequently, even on those days he doesn't use magic."

[That's true. He's so used to coming to our house, he stops by each morning just to save himself an extra trip. He even has his own coffee cup.]

"Let's review these one by one," the officer said, "On your first day you had three violations."

"It was Reese," Lois explained, "He had gotten some cursed candies, and kept insisting on eating them."

David Winter added, "I showed Malcolm the counter spell, after confiscating as many of the candies as I could find."

The officer scowled at David Winter, and pulled out the second sheet. "Candies," Lois said, "apparently he had a second box hidden away. I can't believe how stupid that boy is."

[It was amazing. He always managed to find a few every day, and he always believed me when I said they were the good ones.]

An hour later, the review officer was worn down, "One more," he said with a grin, "On July 4, you fired a fireball into the sky above your house. Would you care to explain why?"

"Why bother," Malcolm said, "You agreed to drop all the others, that leaves only this one, and one is only a warning." Getting up, he waved to the enraged officer and said, "See you next year."

"I've changed my mind," the review officer said, grinning maliciously, "I've decided not to drop any of these charges after all. Malcolm, you are dismissed from your school. Enjoy life as a muggle."

"Hah," Lois laughed, "you are such a blowhard." She walked over to the red faced man and said, "I watched you, mister. You just had a kid in here, who used magic in a life or death situation, and those are your words. You had him crying, with your phony threats."

"My threats are not phony," The review officer shouted.

"They are now," Lois said, "You can't do anything to my son, because he doesn't go to school in this country. You won't do anything to me, because I'm filing a formal complaint. I'm finding the lady who just left, and I'm getting her to file a complaint. You are a loud mouthed, self serving, anal retentive jerk."

Applause came from the waiting room, through the door that Malcolm was holding open. The officer looked up to see the formerly cowed parents and children looking at him with blood in their eyes.

"I owe you an apology," David Winter said, "I won't even tell him about that curse you put on his door."

"That wasn't a curse," Malcolm said, "it was super glue. By the time he finishes his next interview, he'll have to apparate to get out. I pity the kid who's stuck in there with him. So, tell me, what happened that day, when you didn't show up?"

"I did show up," David said, "we noticed you were casting a lot of harmless spells, and decided to see how things went. I thought you were putting on a show. When I realized the show was over, I stopped by, and no one was home. It was only when we received a formal complaint from the British Government, that we found out what was going on."

"I thought that was why you were here. Did you get fired?"

"Obviously not. I quite happily pointed out that your family had, once again, resolved a major problem, and without the use of magic. THAT is why I am here." David smiled at the twelve-year-old boy. "Everyone wants you back in school, Malcolm, including me. My vacation begins the day you leave . . . although I will miss your mother's coffee."

  
  


"Hey squirt," Francis told his brother, "I'm going to miss you. Send me an owl when you get a chance."

"Sure thing, Francis," Malcolm said. They started to shake hands but Francis pulled him into a bear hug.

"Are you ready?" Hal asked, and Malcolm nodded. 

Floo powder was thrown into the fire, and Malcolm stepped through, finding himself at Malfoy Manor. The butler waved his wand, and Malcolm's luggage disappeared. "You will find your belongings on the train, Master Malcolm," the butler said, and led him to the drawing room, where the Malfoys were waiting for him.

"Malcolm," Draco called out, "I have good news. Father has forgiven you for your behavior at the party. And for the way you treated me as a guest at your house."

"I'm sorry about the fight," Malcolm said.

"It was the best part of the evening," Draco said with a laugh, "but I couldn't figure out whose side Dewey was on."

"His own," Malcolm said, "that's why it's called a free-for-all."

"Is it always like this at your home?" Narcissa asked, "All this violence?"

"No," Malcolm admitted, "sometimes my mom's home."

Lucius laughed at that. "I don't know what to say, myself, dear," he told his wife, "but the two seem to be closer friends because of it." He put his arms affectionately around the shoulders of both boys, and said, "Let's get the two of you on your way or you'll miss your train."

  
  


"It's going to be great this year," Draco told Malcolm as they joined Crabbe and Goyle in their compartment. "Quidditch is cancelled, but that is the only bad thing."

"What is this tournament about?" Malcolm asked.

"It's called the Tri-Wizard Tournament," Draco explained. "Our school will be the host, and the other two schools are Beauxbaton and Durmstrang. It's an excellent school, Malcolm, you would love it there. This may interest you. Father actually considered sending me to Durmstrang rather than Hogwarts, you know. He knows the headmaster, you see."

Malcolm nodded as Draco continued, "Well, you know his opinion of Dumbledore - the man is such a mudblood lover - and Durmstrang doesn't admit that sort of riffraff."

[I love the way he said that with a straight face.]

"But Mother didn't like the idea of me going to school so far away. Father says Durmstrang takes a far more sensible line than Hogwarts about the Dark Arts. Durmstrang students actually LEARN them, not just the defense rubbish we do. Hogwarts is such a disgrace at times."

"I thought I heard something," Crabbe said, "I think someone in the next compartment may have been listening."

"I'm willing to bet I know who it is," Draco said. "Malcolm, there may be some inter-house rivalry, going on. If you will excuse us."

"No problem," Malcolm said, "I'll see what I can find." He left to let his friends cause their mischief, and tried to find some of his own. Walking through the train, he was stopped by EJ calling out his name.

"Malcolm, do you know if the rumors are true?" he asked.

"I don't even know what the rumors are," Malcolm said.

"They're changing the rules at the school, and they're bringing in students from other schools," EJ told him.

"Well, I know they've cancelled Quidditch," Malcolm told him.

"Oh, that is believable," EJ said sarcastically, "I was trying to be serious with you." He closed the door on Malcolm while everyone else commented on how he always clowned around.

[Maybe I would like it better at Durmstrang. Then people would only hate me because of what I was, instead of having to make things up.]

Malcolm ended up talking with a new first year. "Nobody believes anything I tell them anymore, except when I lie," Malcolm said, "It's very frustrating."

"Then why do you lie?" The boy asked.

"Because it's a lot of fun," Malcolm said, "For example, there are these two people who hate each other, Draco and Ginny . . . "

"They were on the cover of Wizard Weekly," The boy said gleefully, "You mean they actually hate each other."

"Yeah," Malcolm said, "At least they did, now they seem to just dislike each other."

The boy laughed, "That would be funny if they end up liking each other." After the two stopped laughing at the thought, the boy asked Malcolm what he could expect at Hogwarts. "My brother tells me all sorts of stories. I don't know what to believe."

"It may not be like last year, because of all this rain, but we had a pleasant ride across the monster infested lake, then we lined up to wear a talking hat which told us which house we would be in," Malcolm explained easily.

"That doesn't even sound like the truth," the boy admitted, "no wonder no one ever believes you. What happens if I fall into the lake?"

"I don't know," Malcolm admitted, "Maybe the monsters will throw you back in the boat."

"I'll give it a try," the boy said, "So, why are they cancelling Quidditch?"

At that moment, Colin Creevey stepped out of a compartment and looked around. When he spotted Malcolm, he said to the boy, "Dennis, you should be careful who you talk to. Some people are not trustworthy."

"Nice meeting you, Malcolm," the boy said as he walked away.

"Dennis," Malcolm called back, "ask your brother for the real story about Mrs. Norris."

Colin scowled at Malcolm's remark. "I didn't do anything," he said as he closed the compartment door.

I'm beginning to enjoy myself again.

"Malcolm, wandering around again?" Ginny asked.

"Yeah, I've worn out my welcome, already," Malcolm said with a rueful smile, "Colin Creevey is telling his younger brother I'm not to be trusted. EJ called me a liar, for telling him that Quidditch has been cancelled. Draco's busy harassing your brother and Potter."

"I get the picture," Ginny said laughing, "Why would they cancel Quidditch?"

"They're cancelling Quidditch?" a surprised Cho Chang asked, then added suspiciously, "Is that true, Malcolm?"

"That's what Draco told me," Malcolm said, "He said it was the only bad thing about the rule changes."

Cho Chang grabbed Malcolm and Ginny ushered them into her compartment, forcing her friends to make room. "Please, tell us everything you know," she asked.

Malcolm smiled. He was in his element. "It's called the Tri-Wizard Tournament . . . "


	6. The New School Year

CHAPTER 7: THE NEW SCHOOL YEAR 

[This has been a strange month. I mean, nothing has gone right. It started out wrong. I slept through the sorting, and I only woke up because of the smell of the food. Then the next morning, I get up and run into Colin Creevey, and his brother.]

"You talked him into it, Malcolm. Didn't You?" Colin demanded.

"Oh right, Creevey," Malcolm retorted, "It's my fault your brother fell into the lake."

"He jumped in," Colin said, "one of the other first-years told me."

"You're right, Colin. I told your brother to go jump in the lake, and he was stupid enough to do it. I'm surprised he didn't get into Ravenclaw with those brains."

"I just wanted to know," Dennis said, "And it WAS great."

"Don't stick up for him, Dennis," Colin said, "He's not the best sort."

"It's my fault, Dennis," Malcolm said, "I'm the reason everyone thinks your brother is a really cool guy."

"What are you talking about?" Colin asked.

"Mrs. Norris," Malcolm reminded him, "And don't either of you tell anyone I admitted to it." He faced Colin and said, "ever since that happened, people have begun talking to you like a real person. Remember last year, when you tried to take everyone's pictures. We almost lynched you. Last night, you had the first-years lining up. Even the Slytherins wanted their pictures taken."

"But I didn't do it, the cat I mean," Colin pleaded, "I was always a nice person."

"But nobody bothered to find that out until Mrs. Norris showed up bright yellow."

"Cool," said Dennis, "How did you do it."

"I got the idea from Colin," Malcolm told him, "and the supplies from Snape. You know, Dennis, when it comes to photography, your brother really knows his stuff."

Dennis looked at his brother with renewed awe. "I always knew you were smart, Colin."

[Don't you love happy endings? I should try telling the truth more often. It really surprises people. Well, I went to breakfast in a good mood, and my first day of classes went well.]

"I hate him," Hermione said, "He's a despicable little showoff."

"Who is?" Harry asked.

"That runt, Malcolm. He's in my Arithmancy class," she answered, "He raises his hand to every question as though he knows the answers."

"Does he get them right?"

"Of course he does. But then he turns to me and smiles. I hate that know-it-all."

"Excuse me," Fred asked, as he entered the common room, "Did I hear Hermione Granger call someone a know-it-all?"

"She would know," George said, "she's the expert."

Everyone laughed as Hermione scowled. Harry told her, "you deserved that, 'Mione, after the way you acted your first year."

"But I didn't rub it in," Hermione said as everyone present developed a cough.

Malcolm waked into the common room, and smiled when he saw Hermione. He went up to her saying, "I wanted to thank you, Hermione. Your advice on how to approach parsing vectors really helped me understand what's going on. I kept wanting to say something in class, but . . . " He paused and said softly, "I probably looked like an idiot, the way I kept turning around." Then he added in a raised voice, "But I couldn't help it. I held my own today, and all because of you."

Hermione looked down at his eager smile, and gave him a weak smile of her own. "I'm glad I could help you, Malcolm. If you need any more help, just ask."

"Thanks, Hermione," he said, and ran up to his dorm.

"I feel three inches tall," Hermione said, once he was gone.

[That was fun. I decided the next day, I'd sit next to her, and deliberately answer a question wrong. Then I'd through myself into her arms, crying that I'm such a loser. I was loving it. But that was when things started going wrong.]

"You're in a good mood, Hermione," Ron said, "What happened?"

"Malcolm decided to sit next to me today," Hermione said, her grin getting larger.

"And that was good?" Harry asked.

"Yes, it was. He made me realize he was up to something. Then he answered a question so wrongly, it was obvious he did it on purpose."

"What happened then?" Ron asked eagerly.

"He started crying, and threw himself at me sobbing that he was a loser. He was very convincing. Unfortunately, at that moment I stood up to tell Professor Vector that I knew the answer. Poor Malcolm fell right on the floor."

The three of them laughed. When Malcolm came into the common room, they laughed again.

[I have to admit it was funny. I guess that one did blow up in my face. But then I ran into EJ and caused myself some more trouble. It all seemed so innocent.]

EJ cornered Malcolm as he entered the dorm. "Malcolm, I need a favor."

"Sure, just ask?"

"I need to talk to someone in Slytherin."

"I'll get Draco."

"No, it has to be either a first or second year student."

"Okay," Malcolm said, thoughtfully, "and could I ask why?"

"Sure," EJ said, "but I won't tell you. It has to remain a secret. I promised. And tell whomever you find, to meet us at the Quidditch Pitch after dinner."

"Let me guess," Malcolm said, "us as in you and whoever you promised, as opposed to you and me."

EJ smiled to let Malcolm know he was correct. "I promise to tell you, if the plan works. And I'll tell you anyway, if it doesn't."

"Deal," Malcolm said, as they shook hands.  
  


"Hi, I'm Malcolm," Malcolm said to the Slytherin boy.

"Yes, I know" the Slytherin boy replied. "Draco Malfoy pointed you out to all of us, on the first day. You might have noticed if you were awake. I'm Graham Pritchard."

"Just remember, I traveled a lot further to get here," Malcolm said, irritably, "but that's not the point. I need to ask you a favor."

"Why me?"

"Because you're the first student, I've met who fits the bill. First or Second Year. Slytherin. Willing to talk to me."

Graham looked at Malcolm carefully, and asked what the favor was. After Malcolm told him, he thought for a minute, then said, "I'll go. You must trust whoever told you, and I know you would never betray another pureblood. I'll let you know what happens."

[That's one of those things that always happens to me. People say something that doesn't sound right. Why did he say that, about betraying ANOTHER pureblood? So, I asked Draco.]

"Malcolm, lying to people has nothing to do with it," Draco said, "I know you're worried about my father, and what you might be getting into. I'm worried as well. But if everyone thinks you're a pureblood, then you can write your own, what's the word, ticket."

"So you started a rumor?" Malcolm asked, "And your father is in on it?"

"Yes, and yes," Draco said with a grin, "The best part is that you don't know anything about it. You can deny it all you want, and everyone will understand."

"What's the full story?" Malcolm demanded.

"I can't tell you," Draco laughed, "It's up to your parents to reveal the truth." He patted Malcolm on the shoulder, and added, "It's a great story, Malcolm. A wizard so poor, he had to be raised as a muggle. If anyone doesn't know the story yet, they will shortly. It made the Daily Prophet."

[Draco laughed as I ran back to the Gryffindor tower. I got there in time to see everyone reading the Daily Prophet. I managed to get a copy and read this:]  
  


A LOST SOUL FINDS HIS WAY INTO THE LIGHT by RITA SKEETER

The saddest thing in life is to find out your child is a squib, that he or she has no magical ability at all. These children are often seen as second class citizens, and if they ever marry, it is usually to another like them, or to a muggle. Four families, early in this century, had such a child. Their children met each other and fell in love, each couple fleeing across the water to the New World and a new life.

They had children, and by chance two of them met and fell in love. These children were squibs, as were their brothers and sisters and parents. They choose to turn their backs on the world of magic, a world which had nothing to offer them, and bravely faced life as though they were muggles and raised their children as such, giving them no knowledge of their inheritance.

They were a normal family, for muggles, with two wonderful but nonmagical boys. Then the winds of Fate changed their course, and a third child was born, a magical child, and gifted in other ways as well. The irony is that he grew up, never knowing the truth, and there is a good chance we will be the one's to reveal it to him.

Now in his second year, at Hogwarts, this poor child, whom we will call 'Malcolm,' has already received acclaim for his accomplishments. He was first in all of his classes, and that included advanced classes in potions, and private tutoring in Arithmancy. He begins this year with third level Arithmancy, as well as third AND fourth year Potions. Guesses are that he will be first in his classes again.

We said that 'Malcolm' was poor, but he has not been neglected. Already, interested parties have put aside sufficient funds to pay for his education, as well as such simple things as clothes and miscellaneous supplies (such as, perhaps, a proper broom for Quidditch). One of these parties called this boy, 'an inspiration,' and we have to agree.

We have tried to find out his heritage, but these records have been sealed, and we will have to wait years to find out what his true background is. Rumors already abound that some of his long lost relatives may even be at Hogwarts. After all, he is an American by birth, and that would, by itself, exclude him. 

We ask that anyone who knows anything about his heritage contact us. We would all like to know the full story behind this marvelous boy. For me personally, it is refreshing to write about such a fortunate child, after all the horrible truths I have been forced to reveal. I know I speak for all of us when I say, "Good Luck, 'Malcolm.'"  
  


"It's a lie, isn't it?" Ron asked.

"Of course it is," Malcolm replied, heavily upset, "I would know something about this. With all of my relatives, someone would have said something."

"I don't know," someone said, "If I was a squib I would never admit it."

"You're right," someone else said, "It even says no one told Malcolm. There is no way he'd know."

[The way I saw it, when mom found out, she'd kill me. Then she'd really get mad at me. I was lucky, as it tuned out. I was practicing some of my experiments in the owlery. (It helps me to relax, actually doing something, and the owls are entertained) when Dumbledore showed up, and solved one problem. But that other problem was still developing.]

Malcolm sat on the windowsill in the owlery, pleased that his private experiments went well. Leaning over, he spit and watched to see if it hit the side of the building. He looked up and behind him when he heard someone clear his throat.

"Getting into your habits early, I see," Albus Dumbledore said. "Congratulations are in order, I have been told."

"Thanks," Malcolm said in a miserable tone, "I'm wondering what my parents will say."

"Your mother was very amused," Dumbledore said, "She wanted to know if she should tell them that you were originally born with two heads." Albus chuckled as he added, "Your mother seems to have experience with these kinds of newspapers."

"She thinks it's funny," Malcolm said in surprise, "Then I'm not dead."

"No, at least not yet. And I think you should know, your friend, EJ, has something he wants to tell everyone. Please hurry back to your common room. He should be ready to start shortly."

Malcolm rushed off, and arrived to find a crowded common room. EJ smiled at him and called for everybody to listen. "This is mostly for first and second years, but the rest of you should be interested. When we heard that Quidditch was cancelled, four of us, one from each house, approached Dumbledore with a proposal, which he agreed to. As a result, there will be two Quidditch games on the last weekend of this month. That Saturday, Hufflepuff will play Ravenclaw, and on Sunday, Gryffindor will play Slytherin."

As the applause died down, someone asked why the news was for first and second years.

"Because first and second years thought of it," EJ said, "the rules for teams are as follows. At least six of the seven members of any house team must be first or second year students. The seventh, chosen by those six, does not have to meet these qualifications, but members of former house teams cannot play. This is strictly an amateur effort."

"First years aren't allowed to fly brooms," Dennis Creevey pointed out.

"We thought of that," EJ said, "and we know that a lot of us, from wizarding families, come to Hogwarts with a fair knowledge of flying. Those first years who are interested can approach Madame Hooch tomorrow to be tested. If she approves, you can apply for the team."

Dennis, of all the first years, gave the loudest cheer.

"What are the other rules," someone asked?

"Just this," EJ said, "because of the lack of time to practice, and the newness of the teams, there will be a six-hour time limit. And, also, at the end of each game, Madame Hooch will make the final decision, should there be any controversy over the rules. Otherwise, all standard rules apply"

"Are you going to try out?" Ginny asked Malcolm, and they both laughed.

[I thought it was funny. I still had that problem with flying brooms. There was no way I would try to play. There was no reason I would want to play. And all of you probably know what's going to happen. But I have to tell you about something else that happened the next day. It just shows how bad things were getting for me.]

Malcolm walked into the Great Hall feeling very happy. He sat down, just as the owls came in to deliver the mail. He watched to see if any letters came for him, then started in on breakfast.

He grabbed a piece of toast and reached for the jam to lather it on, when something struck his hand. He looked up to see Hedwig, Harry Potter's owl, glaring at him. Malcolm slowly reached for the jam, again, but the owl blocked his hand. After several attempts, and as many nips to his arm, he desisted. But Hedwig was not done.

Hedwig kicked at the platter of eggs, and when Malcolm didn't move, tried to peck at his ear. Malcolm, being smart, quickly picked up on what was going on. In short order, his plate held scrambled eggs, stewed apples, two rashers of bacon, and a bran muffin. EJ looked over and commented, "That's the first real food you've ever eaten at breakfast. Owls must agree with you."

On the other side, Ron was commenting, "Your owl's gone bonkers, Harry." Pig, his own owl, picked up the letter Ron had received from his mom, and dropped it in the syrup pot. Another owl politely pulled it out, and dropped it into Ron's lap.

"Mine's not the only one," Harry said, laughing.

Malcolm looked up to see that everyone was staring at him, and at the half-dozen owls perched around him to make sure he finished his breakfast. Even the teachers were watching with amusement. Finally, Malcolm pushed his plate back and said he was finished. Hedwig gave him an affectionate peck and flew off. The other owls made it a point to playfully brush their wings against his head as they flew back out of the hall.

In the silence that followed, Ginny's voice could be heard clearly as she asked, "Malcolm, have you had any luck with that love potion yet?" Malcolm crawled under the table and wished himself dead.  
  


In the days that followed events settled into a pattern. Professor Snape had refused to mix any counter potion, since whatever Malcolm had done had made the school owls his watchdogs, and they were keeping him out of trouble. Malcolm always had one or two owls flying around whenever he was outside, or at meals. Occasionally, owls would perch outside of his classroom window, just to watch. Everyone got used to it.  
  


"Malcolm," Dennis Creevey called, "I did it, I made the team."

"That's great Dennis, what position?"

"Beater. The Weasley twins are going to coach me. They say I'm a natural."

As Dennis ran off to spread the news, Malcolm smiled wryly.

[I mean it. I should really find out what the rules are. At least I know the beaters are the ones with sticks.]

"Malcolm," Ginny said, beaming, "I did it."

"That's great," Malcolm said, "What did you do?"

"I'm the seventh player, they picked me for Seeker." Ginny watched as Malcolm smiled blankly, and added, "I fly after that little golden ball."

"Oh, yeah," Malcolm said.

"You're hopeless, Malcolm," Ginny said with a laugh, and went off to tell her news to the others.

"Did you hear the news?" Neville asked as he walked up.

"Did you make the team, too?" Malcolm asked.

Neville laughed, "I don't think I could stay on a broom long enough. I mean about Malfoy. Mad-Eye Moody turned him into a ferret." Then he added, sadly, "But McGonagall made him changed Malfoy back. You never mentioned it, so I wondered if you had even heard about it."

"I did, Neville, but I've been having problems of my own. I haven't been paying attention to what else is going on."

"I can understand," Neville said as he petted of the owl perched on Malcolm's shoulder.

[It could be worse. I did mail a letter to Francis about what was going on, but it seems I shouldn't write letters when I'm agitated.]

"Francis, you have mail," Stan said, pointing at the owl.

Francis untied the letter, and pointed the owl to the corn nuts and water. He opened the letter, and started laughing.

"Stan, it's an article about Malcolm being a wizard."

"I thought he was a wizard?"

"Yeah, but according to this he's from a family of wizards."

"So, he was adopted?"

"There's a note at the bottom. Malcolm says not to tell people . . . What? I don't get this."

Stan looked at the letter and snorted, "Why would anyone believe he was born with two heads, anyway?"

Francis shook his head, "and I always thought Malcolm was the normal one in the family."

[One other weird thing happened. We have this new DADA Professor, Mad-Eye Moody. He was teaching us about the unforgivable curses, but then I asked a question.]

"What does the imperious curse feel like?" Moody asked, repeating Malcolm's question. "Come up here, and I'll show you. I'm sure Dumbledore will not object, and I think you're smart enough to handle it."

Malcolm walked up, nervously, and watched as Moody pointed his wand, and shouted, "Imperio." Moody looked at Malcolm and said, "Now, hop around the room on one leg."

"Why?" Malcolm asked.

A surprised Moody stared at the boy. "How about because I told you to?"

"But it's stupid," Malcolm said, "you'll just make everyone laugh at me."

Moody raised his wand, concentrated, and shouted, "Imperio," a second time.

"What, may I ask, is going on," Professor McGonagall said, entering the room. "I thought I heard you use one of the unforgivable curses."

Moody looked chagrined, "I've Dumbledore's leave to use my own judgement on this matter," he said defensively, then added, "I tried to use the Imperious Curse on Malcolm, as an example to the class, but it didn't work."

"Of course it won't work on him," McGonagall said. "Anyone who knows his background would know that. He's been trained from birth to defy authority. You only have to talk to his mother to find that out."

"Who would train a child in that manner?" Moody asked incredulously.

[I think he was asking about Francis, but now everybody thinks I'm a freak, again. Then, after that class, I found out I made the Quidditch team.]

"Malcolm," Ginny asked, "Why did you do that?"

"I didn't do anything," Malcolm complained, "I just stood there."

Ginny snorted, "We're talking about two different things again. I guess you don't know. Slytherin released the list of their team today. Here's a copy."

"Hey, that's great. They picked Gregory Goyle for Keeper. He should be good. Graham Pritchard is on it. He must be happy." Malcolm looked up in surprise, "why is my name on this list?"

"They've chosen you as their seeker," Ginny said. "I'm going to make a guess and say that you don't know why."

"Yes, I do," Malcolm said, irately, "Draco."

[I was wrong, of course. Something was going on behind my back, but Draco did talk me into playing. He did it by telling me that someone was asking about me.]

"It's nice to have this chance to talk with you again," Doctor Spencer said, "I've been talking to some of your friends, and your teachers. They have varied opinions of you, I must say."

"They would," Malcolm said, "I seem to say the wrong things at times."

"Yes, Hermione Granger told me about that. She finds you to be very amusing, by the way. And she said I could tell you that."

"Are you here, just for me?"

"Sorry Malcolm," Doctor Spencer said, "I'm afraid you aren't that important. I'm here because of the upcoming tournament. It will be quite stressful, and my job is to help the contestants deal with the stress, if it becomes a problem. Helping you is a bonus." She smiled and asked, "How is your flying? Perhaps we should try talking about that?"

"It's fine," Malcolm lied, "I even made the Quidditch team. You might have heard about that."

"Yes, I have, and it should be fun. Now that I know you are involved, I'll make it a point to show up."

"That's great," Malcolm lied, cheerfully.

[That's really great. I came this close to getting rid of her. Now, I'll really have to play. And once she sees me flying, I'll be in therapy for the rest of my life. At least she didn't ask about the owls, or about why I don't have to practice. Oh, and that thing about being a freak, it didn't happen.]

"Malcolm," someone said, "did you hear about Harry Potter? Moody tried to put the Imperious Curse on him, and he was able to resist it."

"Isn't that amazing?" someone else said, "I wish I could do that. Harry Potter has talent with a capital T."

[The worst part about that is that they're in my class. I did the same thing but it doesn't matter. I can understand Draco's remarks about Potter always getting special treatment. Since I had the chance, I also talked to Doctor Spencer about it.]

"First, Malcolm, let me say that, while it is a rare thing, it is not that amazing. There are some people who have a natural immunity to the Imperious Curse, as well as people who are strong willed enough to fight it."

"So I shouldn't be upset about it?"

"Malcolm, you're upset because Harry Potter is getting the attention, and not you. Please remember that Harry has had a unique childhood, and people see him as something special. They want to have things to say about him."

Malcolm thought about it, and asked, "But everyone knows I'm special, why don't they have the same attitude about me?"

Doctor Spencer smiled at the boy, and said, "Because they like you, Malcolm. No one really wants to see you as special. They want to see you as one of the crowd. When Harry does something, everyone cheers or hisses, depending on what they think of him. When you do something, everyone simply says, 'That's Malcolm for you. He's always up to something."

"Your making that up," Malcolm said,

"That was what Hermione Granger told me," Doctor Spencer said, "and Ginny Weasley, and Neville Longbottom, and Cho Chang, and Draco Malfoy, and EJ Captain, and Amber Dowling. Would you like me to list the teachers, as well?"

[Can you believe that? People actually like me. Even the Krelbournes only tolerated me, because of Reese. Anyway, tomorrow is Saturday, and I have one more day to understand what I'm supposed to do. I should talk to Draco again. I still don't understand why the Slytherins picked me, but Draco says that if I don't play they have to forfeit. It seems to me, they're deliberately trying to lose.]  
  



	7. What's Really Going On

CHAPTER 8: WHAT'S REALLY GOING ON 

The Slytherin common room was crowded as the students discussed the planned Quidditch Match against Gryffindor.

"Are they going to do it?" Blaise Zambini asked.

"They are," Malcolm Baddock said, "and they've guaranteed to cover all wagers."

"Good," Blaise said, "Now all we have to do is field the right team."

"Will it work?" a Slytherin third year asked.

"Well," Blaise said smiling, "It depends on how you mean that. If we make a large enough wager, and the Weasley twins cover it, we all make plenty of money. If they don't, then we complain to the Headmaster. Those twins are kicked out for running a gambling operation, we get our money back, hopefully, and those goody-goody Gryffindors get a black eye. Personally, I see this as a win-win situation. Who's in?"

Almost every Slytherin sounded their approval. Draco Malfoy didn't. "I don't like it. I don't mind cheating to win. But I can't stomach cheating to lose, even if it is for a good cause."

"I've thought of that," Blaise said, casually, "we will play to win. Only there are going to be complications, and our victory will be taken away. And we will have a severe handicap."

"A handicap? Now you have my interest," Draco said. "What is this handicap?"

"I thought of it," Malcolm said, "Can I tell them, Blaise." When he got the nod, the first-year Slytherin continued, "It's because we have the same name. I suggested we choose that Gryffindor, Malcolm, as our seeker."

"He won't do it," Draco said, laughing.

"Then we forfeit," Blaise said, "and win."

"No," Draco said with a snort, "The twins won't accept any bets unless Malcolm agrees. Your plan won't work." Then he added, casually, "It was a good plan, but too obvious."

"It could work if Malcolm agreed to play." Pansy Parkinson said, slyly. All eyes turned to Draco, as Pansy added, "You are his best friend, Draco. You could talk him into it."

"Of course I could," Draco said, "but that isn't the point. The point is that your plan is too obvious. Everyone will know what is going on, including the Weasley twins. Once they hear about the team we field, then they'll set the odds. And they will take Malcolm's skills on a broom into account."

"It doesn't matter what odds they set," Blaise said, "as long as we officially lose the match. With Malcolm on the team, we cannot possibly win."

"I wouldn't bet on that," Draco said.

"I would," Baddock said, and others agreed.

"Does everyone want this foolish plan?" Draco asked, laughing. No one said a word. He looked at them, and said, "If you really want, I'll talk Malcolm into it. But don't expect me to bet with you, and don't blame me when the plan blows up in your faces."

  
  


"Malcolm, don't tell me you agreed," George said to him.

"Draco explained it to me," Malcolm said. "The Slytherins don't have enough first and second years who can play. They picked me, just to fill the empty slot."

"But won't that guarantee that Slytherins will lose?" Fred asked.

"Not according to Draco. The Slytherins don't think much of your sister as a seeker, and they think they can win on points. There is a time limit, remember. All they want me to do is sit on my broom until the game is over."

"It doesn't make sense," Fred told him, "They can't pick someone from a different house, and even if they could, why not pick someone who could play."

"On top of that," George added, "Why didn't they get someone from their own house, if they just wanted that person to sit there?"

Malcolm smiled, "That's what I asked Draco. None of the eligible Slytherins wanted to be Seeker, and they used their option on Goyle as Keeper. They asked me, first of all, because they knew I would say yes, and second, because they wanted to be fair. If they picked someone from another house, that is, someone who could play, people would accuse them of cheating."

"Draco is a smart one," Fred said to George, but George had to ask a question.

"Malcolm, how did they know you would agree?"

Malcolm looked around, nervously, as said, "Don't tell anyone, but last year I was examined by a doctor, and he suggested my flying problem might be mental."

"I've always thought it was your inner ear," George said, "because that nose clip helps, but I like the mental part."

"Thanks," Malcolm said, wryly, "but the thing is, this head doctor is here to help set up the tournament. If she finds out I'm on the Quidditch team, then I won't have to go into therapy."

George slapped Fred's shoulder, and said, "I told you there was a logical explanation. All we had to do was ask. By the way, Malcolm, how good is Goyle?"

"If it's a sport, he can play it. He'll make an excellent Keeper."

They said their goodbyes and walked off. "What do you think, Fred?"

"I think Malcolm should go into therapy for agreeing to this stupid scheme. It's obvious even he doesn't believe it."

"So, the game is fixed. But why?"

  
  


Blaise Zambini stepped into the unused classroom and walked up to the Weasley twins, asking if they were accepting wagers on the Slytherin Match. George explained that the odds were 3 - 1 in favor of Gryffindor, and that they were handicapped by 99 points. Blaise smiled and placed a bet of 15 Galleons on Gryffindor to win, and handed him a pouch. When George hesitated, Blaise asked if they were refusing to honor the wager. "After all, you accepted all of those other wagers."

After Zambini left, Fred told his brother, "That makes almost 150 Galleons from Slytherin. Add all of those other bets, and we have almost 200 Galleons bet on Gryffindor."

George sighed, saying, "We should have seen this coming. It's obvious what the plan is, and we're the targets."

"It doesn't matter," Fred told his brother, "I went over the sheet and no one bet on Slytherin." 

"We were stupid," George said.

"No," Fred told him, "we took a gamble, and we haven't lost yet."

"You will, on Sunday," Draco Malfoy said, stepping out of the shadows.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" Fred said with a grimace, "Your friends already baited the trap."

"I know," Draco told them, smiling politely, "but I came to make my own wager. The odds are three to one, I believe. That means if I bet one Galleon on Slytherin, and they win, which they will, my Galleon is returned to me, and I am given three more Galleons as well."

"That's right," the twins said, warily. "And also if Gryffindor wins by less than 100 points."

Draco pulled out a purse of his own and said, "50 Galleons on Slytherin."

The amazed twins accepted the bet, but Fred beat out his brother to ask why. Draco smiled wickedly, and said, "You know the match has been, uhm, fixed, but did you know that I was the one to do it. I even told my fellow Slytherins that I won't try to lose, even if it means seeing the two of you thrown out of here."

"You know something. Don't you?" George said.

"Yes," Draco told him, and walked away.

"I don't trust him," Fred said.

"We don't have to," George said, "He trusts himself 50 Galleons worth."

"But he's been wrong before," Fred answered, "and besides, we need to cover ourselves."

"Fred," George said curiously, "We also have a means of influencing future bets. If word slipped out that Draco bet heavily on Slytherin . . . "

Fred followed the thought, and smiled. Then he frowned. "George, Malfoy deliberately gave us a way out. Why?"

They looked at each other and smiled. "Malcolm," they said together.

  
  


Malcolm Baddock watched as Draco left the classroom. He had wanted to see those twins cringe, but did the cringing himself. He could not understand why Draco would bet on his own house, after everything he did. Baddock came to the conclusion that Draco had double-crossed his own house, and decided to take matters into his own hands.

"Excuse me, Professor," Baddock said when he found the Potions Teacher, "I saw something unusual today, and I thought, since you are in charge of our house, that you would explain it."

An interested Severus Snape listened while Baddock told him, "It was the Weasley Twins, from Gryffindor. They were in an empty classroom. I saw another student give them money. One of the twins wrote something down on a parchment, while the other shook the student's hand." Smiling, the young Slytherin led Professor Snape to the classroom.

  
  


"Three Galleons?" George said to the trio of girls, "and which team will you be betting on?"

"Isn't it obvious," one of the girls laughed, "who would bet on Slytherin, anyway?"

"Malfoy had better not hear that, after the large bet he made," Fred whispered to George, a little too loud.

"Wait," one of the girls said to the other two, "Draco Malfoy IS Malcolm's friend? He must know something."

"Have you seen Malcolm on a broom?" the third girl said, laughing.

"Yes," said the second girl, "and so has Malfoy, but he still made that bet."

"You're right," the first girl said, "and he is in a position to know what is going on." Turning toward the twins, she said, "Three Galleons on Slytherin."

An angry voice from the doorway said, "For making such a wise bet, the three of you may leave, NOW." A red-faced Snape angrily closed the door after the girls ran out, and said, "You will give me that parchment, now."

George handed over the parchment, which was closely examined. Then Snape performed a summoning spell. "I've asked Professor McGonagall to come here, since she is the head of your house," he told the twins. "You might as well sit down and wait." Turning to the Slytherin boy he said, "Thank you, Baddock, you may leave."

  
  


"I'm worried," Gregory Goyle said, "It doesn't seem right. Malcolm shouldn't be on our team."

Draco laughed, "You're just worried that he might fly over you. I can't think of a better person for our team. Remember, last year, when we picked his brain about letting the dementors on the school grounds?"

Goyle remembered what was said that night, and smiled, "You're right, Draco, but . . . he is going to wear that nose thing, isn't he?"

  
  


Professor McGonagall looked at the parchment in shock. "This is incredible. I don't think the students ever wagered this much. It will be a scandal if this comes out."

"It was obviously meant to embarrass your house," Snape told her, "but this is the worst time for this to happen. It will affect the entire school. Everyone is watching us because of the Tri-Wizard Tournament." Turning to the twins, he said, "Tell me the meaning of these large wagers."

Fred looked at George who looked at Fred. Fred looked at the Professors and said, "The Quidditch Match has been rigged. Slytherin is supposed to lose."

"Really," McGonagall said, "With Malcolm as their seeker, I would have expected them to win handily. Tell me something I don't know."

Fred looked over at George, who nodded. "We're accepting wagers on the outcome, and the Slytherins made a series of large bets that Gryffindor would win. Then Draco Malfoy covered those bets."

Professor McGonagall was surprised at what she heard. "Do you know who fixed the game, and how?"

"That's the hard part," George said, "The Slytherins rigged the game by choosing Malcolm as their seeker."

"Then Draco Malfoy rigged the game the other way by getting Malcolm to agree," Fred told them.

"And what does Malcolm have to say on the subject?" McGonagall asked.

"He actually knows less than we do," Fred admitted.

"I have one more question," Snape said, "When I walked in, you had finished talking three Hufflepuffs into betting on Slytherin. Why?"

"We always cover our bets, even when we know we'll win," George said. "Thanks to the Slytherins, we were in deep trouble. When we let it slip that Malfoy bet heavily on his own house, well, it helped to even things out a lot."

The two professors talked with each other, then turned to the twins. "Two questions," Professor McGonagall said, "first of all, how much money is involved, and secondly, what is your status as for as 'covering' all of the bets."

Fred and George looked up in surprise. "We have over 300 Galleons," Fred told them.

"Most of that has been bet on Gryffindor," George explained, "but even after using our own money, we are still short by a little more than 12 Galleons."

"A fellow student owes us a favor," Fred added, "but he can't loan us more than Two Galleons."

The two professors talked again. After some fifteen minutes under a silence charm, they turned back to the twins.

"They ARE in your house, Minerva," Severus Snape said, smiling.

"Thank you, Severus," McGonagall said, then spoke to the twins, "You have two choices. You can be expelled, today, for running a gambling operation on school grounds, Or. . . . " She paused to grin, wickedly, ". . . You can become model students for the remainder of the year. In class at least. I wouldn't want to give you impossible conditions."

"I like the second choice better," Fred said, with George nodding.

"Also, there will be no more gambling after this incident is brought to a close. Is that understood?"

"Yes, Ma'am," the twins answered.

Severus Snape reached into his robed, and pulled out five gold coins, "I believe I will wager that my own house will win."

"You may stop by my office," Minerva McGonagall said, "and I will give you an equal amount. With the loan from your friend, you should have sufficient funds."

"You're betting on Slytherin?" Fred asked.

"Of course not," Professor McGonagall said with mock anger, "I am betting that a fine young Gryffindor, Malcolm, will help the team he is playing on, and that team will win its match. I have always been fond of that boy."

"Thank You, Professors," George said, curious, "but I have to ask why."

"Personally," Snape said, "because I hate cheaters. I won't defend what you are doing, but at least you have been fair about it. And, thanks to my house, this entire situation has gotten out of hand." He paused and added, "because of this, we will never turn a blind eye to you again. Remember that." Saying that, he left, muttering the name Baddock.

Professor McGonagall smiled at Snape's comment, then said, solemnly, "Before this, it was always a mild diversion. I don't think you ever had much business."

"Our record was Four Galleons," Fred told her, "that was the Slytherin/Gryffindor match, last year."

"I dislike complimenting you on this," Professor McGonagall said, "but you kept your heads in a crisis, and never tried compromise on your promise. Even when you were confronted by your teachers, you did not panic, which is no surprise. But you did not back down, either. That shows true Gryffindor Bravery. I only wish you had shown bravery in something other than betting on a Quidditch Match."

"That was strange," George said, later. "Snape AND McGonagall helping us out. I was already packing my bags."

  
  


It was Sunday morning, and Doctor Lydia Spencer arrived at Hogwarts for to watch a very interesting young boy prove himself. She was there, also, because she loved Quidditch, and found the circumstances of the match intriguing. As she passed two older boys, whom she recognized as the Weasley Twins, she heard them mumble something about two Galleons. "Excuse me," Doctor Spencer said, smiling, "why two Galleons?"

Fred and George looked at each other and smiled. "You're Malcolm's doctor," Fred said. "You must be proud of him, what with his playing in the match."

"Not that much, Fred," George told him, "She never even tried to wager."

Lydia almost laughed out loud, "The two of you are the local 'bookies', I assume. What are the odds?"

"Fortunately, Malcolm has a reputation, and we've got the odds at 3 to 1 and 99 points. Unfortunately, we can only accept bets, for Malcolm's team, and nothing more than 10 Galleons."

Doctor Spencer hesitated. She thought about the mad money she always kept, and decided on a whim. She could afford it, and it could help her gain Malcolm's trust. "I'll bet the two Galleons you mumbled about," she said, "On Gryffindor."

"Uhm," George said, smiling, "Malcolm is playing on the Slytherin team."

"Isn't that unusual?"

"It's an unusual match?" George answered truthfully.

  
  


"Neville," Fred said, "we need you to reach into your pockets. We're short covering the bets and you promised to help us."

"How much," Neville asked in an annoyed tone.

"Five Knuts," Fred told him.

Neville actually laughed at the small sum mentioned. As he handed over the copper coins, he asked, "What am I betting on?"

Fred grinned and said, "You just bet that Malcolm catches the snitch."

"I want my money back," Neville said, shaking with laughter.

Fred nodded to George, who signaled to Lee Jordan. If they won or lost, it would only be money, but they would still have the trust of their customers. Fred and George smiled at each other as Lee Jordan announced the code phrase, "Everything is in order for the match, today." They also laughed as half the students in Slytherin suddenly stared in disbelief.

"Who do you think will win," Fred asked.

"I have no idea," George answered, "But this IS going to be an interesting match."

  
  



	8. Cliffhanger

A/N: Thank You again to every one who is reading this story. I would like to say that I did not mean to confuse anyone, but that would not be completely true. I do hope, however, that this chapter is written more clearly, because I am trying to describe a Quidditch Match, and I have no idea how well I did. It seems fine to me, but I'm a couch potato.

  
  
  
  
CHAPTER 9: CLIFFHANGER 

"Professor Dumbledore," Lydia Spencer said, happily, "It is a pleasure meeting you again."

"Please, Lydia. If I am to call you by your first name, then you must call me Albus."

"Very Well. Albus. I did want to ask you a few questions about one of your students."

Albus sat down at his desk, chuckling, and asked, "would that be Malcolm, by chance. He is an interesting character."

"Well, yes," Lydia said, "but there appear to be contradictions in what is going on. For example, he is in Gryffindor, yet he is playing on the Slytherin team in the upcoming match. He had a problem last year, with broom flying, and now he playing the position of Seeker. But what confuses me most, however, is that I saw him earlier, being harassed by some owls. I don't know what to make of any of this."

"Let me assure you," Albus said, "Malcolm does have a problem with flying a broom. To be honest, he has never been more than five feet off the ground while broom flying, nor has he ever flown faster than he could walk."

Lydia shook her head, "Then why is he on the Quidditch team?"

"Because of you, my dear. He thought that you would think him cured if you knew he was playing. You ruined his plans by telling him you would come to the match."

Lydia laughed, "That boy has gone to a great deal of trouble to avoid talking to me. But tell me, why is he playing for the other team. Why would they agree, if Malcolm is really that bad."

"I have no idea," Albus said, "I do suspect that there has been a great deal of gambling going on, and I fear I will have to step in. Anyone involved can expect to be dealt with severely." Albus watched as Lydia became interested in the pictures on the walls, and shook his head, "Are you involved, as well?"

Lydia blushed, and said, "I have two Galleons on Slytherin, and they gave me good odds, or so I thought." Lydia took a sip of her tea, then added, "Assuming Malcolm's team takes the match, my winnings go to the St. Mungo's Charity Fund. I always do that when I win a bet."

"Ah," said Dumbledore, lightly, "Then you are excused from any punishment."

"Seriously, Albus, that IS what I always do. And if I lose a bet, I always give an equal amount to the charity. It makes me feel better about my vice."

"I never doubted you," Albus said. "At least, I will never admit it."

"Thank you," Lydia said, "and could I ask about the owls. When I arrived this morning, I saw Malcolm chasing an owl who had something of his, while other owls would dive at him. It was frightening to look at, but there were other students there, watching him and laughing. Apparently this is a daily occurrence."

"It is," Albus admitted, "The owls want to make sure Malcolm gets enough exercise. It is easy to become a bookworm in this place." He paused, then added, "he is a very bright boy, you know, and he loves to experiment with spells. His favorite place is the owlery, and you can find him there at least three nights a week."

"What kind of experiments?" Lydia asked.

"One example is the Lumos spell," Albus explained, "Last year he figured out how to make the light into different colors. He was very proud of that, and I had to break his heart when I told him the spells would be listed in his the back of his charms book. There is also a rumor that, two week ago, Malcolm tried to develop a love potion, and it backfired."

"So, the owls are in love with Malcolm?"

"Not quite. The owls have come to love Malcolm, but I don't think it is because of any spell. He has spent so much time with the owls, that they have adopted him." Albus chuckled as he thought of that day in the Great Hall, "They watch him at meals to make sure he eats properly. There is always an owl or two following him when he is outside. They will even play with him, like this morning." He leaned forward and added, "I have seen Malcolm come inside after spending over an hour chasing after one of his books. He was exhausted, but he was also happy. Malcolm will deny it, but he actually likes all of the attention."

Lydia was laughing too hard to say anything.

  
  


"Good luck, Malcolm."

"Thanks, Dewey. I hope you like the game."

"I will," Dewey said with a smile, "Peeves told me how well you fly."

"Did mom tell you when you had to be home?" Malcolm asked.

"Mom knows I'm here?" Dewey asked, "and she still lets me come."

"Yeah," Malcolm said, with his own smile, "It gets you out of the house. The only problem Mom has is that you keep coming back."

"Good Morning, Dewey," Dennis Creevey called, "Do you want to watch the game with my brother."

[Dennis is an amazing person. I finally realized that Dennis is what Dewey would be like, if Dewey came from a normal family. The first time they met, Dennis invited him to broom flying class, and even talked Madame Hooch into letting Dewey take lessons.]

"Sure," Dewey said, "Malcolm's just mad because I can fly better than he can."

"Maybe you should play instead," Dennis said as they left the Great Hall.

"Malcolm," Hermione Granger called, "I wanted to ask you about joining my group, The Society for the Promotion of Elf Welfare. It would mean a lot, especially if you would wear one of our buttons during the match."

"You are joking," Malcolm said, "Hermione, do you honestly expect me to wear a button that says S.P.E.W. when I'm riding a broom?"

Hermione tried to keep from smiling, but failed.

"By the way, Hermione, I ate before the game."

In a fit of control Hermione said, "You could use the button as a warning." Then she fell back against the wall, laughing.

[That girl really needs to sort her priorities.]

  
  


As Lydia and Albus sat down, she couldn't help but comment on the crowd. "I think everyone from the school is here, today."

"We have more than the school here," Albus said, "Several of the townspeople are here as well. For most of us, yesterday's match and today's will be the only ones we'll see this year."

"How was yesterday's match?" Lydia asked. "I wasn't able to get away early enough."

"It was very interesting, but very brief," Albus explained. "Cedric Diggory, last year's team captain, personally trained the Hufflepuff team, which performed admirably. After twenty minutes, they were already ahead by fifty points to zero. Unfortunately, the Ravenclaw Seeker was handpicked by Cho Chang, their team captain, and he caught the Golden Snitch at the twenty-one minute mark." Albus's eyes twinkled as he added, "If that was any indication, we could have some powerful teams in only a couple of years."

"That sounds impressive," Lydia admitted, "but I do have to ask. Do the owls always come to watch, or is that because of Malcolm?"

"It is because of Malcolm," Albus said, "and I can't help but find it very amusing."

At that point, Lee Jordan announced, "Everything is in order for the match, today."

"Did you notice that?" Albus said, conversationally, "When Mr. Jordan made that announcement, a large number of Slytherins became excited."

"You're right," Lydia said, "they look surprised."

"They are," Albus said. "Isn't that interesting?"

  
  


"Malcolm," Gregory Goyle said, "Don't worry."

"I'm about to fly a broom with the entire school watching," Malcolm said, "I don't even know why I'm doing this. All the reasons I gave sound stupid now."

Goyle smiled at his small friend, "I don't know a lot, but I do know Quidditch. I'm Keeper, and I will keep the quaffle away. I promise. All you have to do is fly over people, and make them nervous." He gave the younger boy a good natured pat on the back and said, again, "Don't worry, and wear that nose thing."

  
  


"Are you sure Malcolm has been on a broom before?" Lydia asked.

"Yes he has," Albus assured her, "and he has already set a new record. I believe he is at least eight feet off the ground."

"But he's moving so slowly," Lydia said.

  
  


"EMMA DOBBS, GRYFFINDOR, HAS THE QUAFFLE," Lee Jordan announced. "THE SLYTHERIN BEATER HAS HIT A BLUDGER STRAIGHT AT HER, BUT SHE DODGES, SHE RACES UPWARDS, PASSES BACKWARD TO AMBER DOWLING WHO SHOOTS. GOYLE, SLYTHERIN, BLOCKS, PASSES IT TO GRAHAM PRITCHARD, WHO RACES TOWARD THE GRYFFINDOR GOALS. NATILIE MCDONALD, GRYFFINDOR, KNOCKS THE QUAFFLE LOOSE. IT'S PICKED UP BY DOBBS WHO RACES IN, SHOOTS, GOYLE BLOCKS. MALCOLM BADDOCK, SLYTHERIN, TAKES THE QUAFFLE, RACES PAST MCDONALD. DOWLING TRIES TO INTERCEPT, BADDOCK DODGES, SHOOTS, SCORES. SLYTHERIN SCORES FIRST . . . 

  
  


"I'm worried about Malcolm," Vincent Crabbe said, "He's never been that high before. He must be a hundred feet by now."

"He'll be fine," Draco said, "It's been almost forty minutes into the match and he hasn't . . . "

"Don't say it," Vincent asked, "you might jinx him. I wonder what he's thinking?"

[Don't look down. Don't look down. Don't look down. Don't look down . . . ]

  
  


. . .AND SLYTHERIN SCORES AGAIN. SLYTHERIN 50, GRYFFINDOR 20. SLYTHERIN IS OUT TO WIN THIS MATCH. MCDONALD, GRYFFINDOR, GETS THE QUAFFLE, DODGES THE BLUDGER WHICH CREEVEY HITS AT ONCOMING BADDOCK, SLYTHERIN. BADDOCK SWERVES AND MCDONALD IS PAST HIM. SHE SHOOTS, GOYLE GRABS THE QUAFFLE . . . WEASLEY IS DIVING, SHE SEES THE SNITCH, CLOSE TO THE SLYTHERIN HOOPS. GOYLE THROWS THE QUAFFLE . . . TO WEASLEY. SHE LOSES THE SNITCH. GOOD TRY, GRYFFINDOR. MCDONALD GRABS THE QUAFFLE . . . AND SCORES. SHE CAUGHT GOYLE NAPPING THAT TIME.

  
  


"How high is Malcolm?" Hermione asked, looking up.

"He's very high," Harry said, "I rarely fly that high during a game. I think he's in trouble."

"Of course he's in trouble," Ron laughed, "He doesn't know how to fly a broom."

"Look," Harry pointed, "Ginny's flying up to him, she'll help him out."

  
  


. . .DOBBS IS HIT FROM THE SIDE AND LOSES THE QUAFFLE. BADDOCK RECOVERS. HE FLIES INTO A WELL-HIT BLUDGER. DOWLING GETS THE QUAFFLE. SHE RACES TOWARDS THE HOOPS. GOYLE BLOCKS, THROWS TO JULIA GARRETH, SLYTHERIN. GARRETH CARRIES THE QUAFFLE, . . . NICE DODGING . . . THROWS . . . EJ CAPTAIN BLOCKS . . . TOSSES THE QUAFFLE TO MCDONALD. BLUDGER COMING AT MCDONALD . . . SHE DOESN'T SEE IT. CREEVEY HITS THE BLUDGER UP AND OUT OF THE WAY. I SWEAR HE CAME OUT OF NOWHERE. MCDONALD IS RACING ACROSS THE PITCH . . . SHOOTS . . . BLOCKED AGAIN . . . THE BLUDGER . . . IT'S STILL HEADING UPWARD, TOWARD THE TWO SEEKERS CIRCLING OVERHEAD. GRYFFINGOR SEEKER, GINNY WEASLEY SEES IT AND MOVES OUT OF THE WAY. THE SLYTHERIN SEEKER, MALCOLM . . . IT HITS HIM . . . HE'S SLIPPING. WEASLEY IS FLYING BACK TO . . . HE'S FALLING . . . 


	9. The Other End Of The Cliff

CHAPTER 10: THE OTHER END OF THE CLIFF 

"Malcolm," Ginny said, "You need to go down, you're too high."

"I'm fine," Malcolm said, nervously, "as long as I don't look down."

"I'll help you," Ginny said, "but the way you're holding the broom, you're only going to continue to rise."

"I'm fine, as long as I don't look down."

Ginny looked down, then said, hurriedly, "Malcolm, lean forward on the broom. That will take you out of the path of the bludger."

"The what?" Malcolm asked, squeakily.

"The bludger, Malcolm. Just lean forward," Ginny called as she moved her broom. "Malcolm," she shouted, "Move, Now!"

Malcolm tried to move, but he was too late. The bludger almost missed him, but caught his shoulder, knocking his hand loose. He fell sideways, and slipped off the broom before he realized it. The one thought that immediately passed through his mind was, 'I'm not scared, anymore.'

[I can handle this. I know what to do. I should have gotten rid of that broom an hour ago.]

Students screamed as they saw Malcolm start to fall. A half-dozen teachers had already cast cushioning spells on the ground where Malcolm would hit, but they all feared it might not be enough. Albus Dumbledore tried, but failed to cast a spell at the free fall target, and other were afraid to try, for fear of hitting the stands on the opposite side of the pitch. And the owls, hundreds of them, began to hoot loudly.

Everyone watched, in fear and awe, as Malcolm's body suddenly began to shrink. He turned brownish-grey and grew feathers. Thirty feet above the ground, a half-grown tawny owl spread its wings to break its fall, then swooped upward in an avian version of the Wronski Feint. Everyone was speechless. Emma Dobbs dropped the quaffle, and Graham Pritchard, not thinking, caught it and handed it back to her.

Madame Hooch blew her warning whistle and called for the teams to continue playing, while Malcolm flew up, and out of range of the teams, and tried to think.

[This is useless. All I can see are large blurs. If only this were a night game. At least the owls enjoyed it, but they knew what was going to happen. All those nights, flying with them, really paid off.]

The owls were hooting their approval at what Malcolm did, but Malcolm was still in a quandary. Now that he was free of the broom, he wanted to play, but being an owl, his daytime vision left a lot to be desired. Then he heard it. Hedwig's whistling hoot, deliberately lower than all the others.

[Listen. Thanks, Hedwig. Yes, I can hear everything. That's EJ, he just blocked the quaffle. There are the bludgers. That's Ginny, racing after . . . the snitch. I HEAR IT. It's there, and it's heading . . . ]

Malcolm folded his wings and went into a dead fall. Moving only enough to avoid hitting anyone, he fell through the crowd of players, bringing himself up in time to face the oncoming snitch. He raised his claws and caught it, to be hit by a grasping hand. Ginny Weasley was one second too late.

Madam Hooch blew her whistle to announce the end of the game. Malcolm flew over and handed (clawed?, declawed?, unclawed?) over the snitch. He transformed back and touched the ground, as a white owl swooped down and landed on his shoulder, nuzzling his ear to show her satisfaction. The owls hooted loudly and flapped their wings, in contrast to the silence of the humans in the crowd.

"The final score is . . . ," Madam Hooch called out, but was interrupted.

"Slytherin cheated," Ron Weasley called out, "they had an illegal player."

  
  


"Now, what do you contest about this match," Madam Hooch asked, when Ron Weasley, to the chagrin of his brothers, walked onto the field.

"Malcolm, their Seeker, is a Gryffindor. He can't play on the Slytherin team. Slytherin has to forfeit for fielding an illegal player."

"Excuse me," Blaise Zambini said, halfheartedly, "The rules say that each house team must pick only first or second year students, they don't specify which house they have to be in."

"I'm sorry," Madam Hooch said, "that rule only affects age qualifications. Standard rules specify that a member of a house may not play on the team of another house. If no one has anything to add, then Slytherin forf . . . "

"Uhm," said Gregory Goyle, loudly.

"Uhm is not a word, Mr. Goyle," Madam Hooch said, "If you have something to say please try using sentences."

"Uhm, sorry," Goyle said, "But Malcolm is, well, there was an incident last year, when we traded with Hufflepuff . . . "

"I know the incident, Mr. Goyle. What does that have to do with anything?"

"Well, Uhm, Malcolm helped us out, and we were really grateful," Goyle said, sheepishly. Then, he puffed out his chest and added, "so, we made him an honorary Slytherin, with all the rights and privileges that go with it."

"Is that true," Madam Hooch asked in surprise?

"Yes, it is," chimed Draco Malfoy, "It was Marcus Finch who thought of it. And there were no objections."

"That is true," Severus Snape said. "I even informed Professor McGonagall of that fact."

"He did indeed," Professor McGonagall said, adding under her breath, "not that he meant it to be nice."

"That is an interesting turn of events," Madam Hooch said, "Since Malcolm is known to be an honorary Slytherin, I rule that Malcolm is a legitimate player." As Ron Weasley and Blaise Zambini cursed under their breaths, Madame Hooch announced, "The score stands at . . . "

"Excuse me," a voice said, "I have an objection."

"What is it, Professor Flitwick?"

"I don't wish to interfere, but the Slytherin Seeker is an illegal animagus. He had no right to play in this match, although that is the least of his problems, once the ministry hears about this."

"Excuse me," Professor McGonagall said, "but I am more familiar with the laws concerning registering animagi. Malcolm has not done anything wrong, yet. Malcolm, how many people knew you were an animagus?"

"No one," Malcolm said sheepishly, "I didn't tell anyone, because it's not allowed. Sorry."

"What do you mean, it's not allowed?" Albus Dumbledore asked.

"I'm underage, Sir," Malcolm said, pawing the ground.

Albus smiled, and several of the teachers began to laugh. "Malcolm," he said, "There is no age limit. There is only the requirement that you report it. There are people who have become animagi at younger ages than you are now."

"Really?" Malcolm said with genuine surprise.

"I don't like to brag," Professor McGonagall said, smugly.

"Then we'll register him," Madame Hooch said. "Malcolm, are you an animagus? Answer truthfully please."

"Yes," Malcolm said, to general laughter.

"And what animal do you change into?"

Hedwig bit his ear affectionately as he answered, "An owl, Ma'am."

"I'll inform the ministry, Malcolm. You are now a registered animagus. The score stands, Slytherin wi . . . "

"No, we can't win," Malcolm Baddock, the first-year Slytherin, shouted, as everyone looked curiously at him. "I mean, I only want to be fair, but . . . Malcolm wasn't on his broom when he caught the snitch. The rules say he has to use a broom."

"That's not fair," Hermione Granger shouted. "Ron, you know all about Quidditch. There has to be something . . . "

"Mr. Weasley," Dumbledore said, "if you know something, you must tell us."

Grumbling, Ron said, "there was one exception. In 1896 Mark MacMahon of the Chudley Cannons fell off his broom during a match against Puddlemere United. On the way down he managed to catch the snitch. The official ruling was that it was a fair catch because he had not yet touched the ground after dismounting his broom." Ron scowled and added, "At least MacMahon had the decency to die when HE fell."

"That's enough, Mr. Weasley," Madame Hooch said, "I rule, based on precedent, that Malcolm caught the snitch in fair play. Are there any more objections? Then Slytherin wins, 200 to 30."

Of the 300+ people who attended the match, only twelve people cheered. Everyone else had bet on Gryffindor.

  
  


As they were leaving the field, Lydia bumped into a very cheerful Draco Malfoy. "You must have bet on Slytherin as well," she said.

"I did Dr. Spencer," Draco said, "I've learned to expect the unusual from Malcolm. He never disappoints. Now I have to decide what to do with my winnings."

"I always give my winnings to the St. Mungo's Charity Fund," Lydia hinted.

Draco paused, not letting his real thoughts show, "That's a wonderful idea. I don't really need the money. Give them mine as well, along with my original wager. All I ask is that you mention my generosity. That way father won't get mad at me. He hates anonymous donations."

"Thank you, Draco," Lydia said, appreciatively, "I will do that."

She walked a short way, when Neville Longbottom stopped her, "Did I hear Malfoy say that he was giving his winnings to the hospital?"

"Yes, he is, Neville, although I forgot to ask him how much that was."

"I'm sure it was a good amount," Neville said, "but if it helps you can have my money as well. But I should tell you, I only bet five Knuts."

  
  


"I don't believe it," Lydia Spencer said to the Weasley twins, "Draco Malfoy bet that much money."

"I don't believe he gave it all away," George said in return.

"But it is a wonderful thought," Professor McGonagall said, looking at Professor Snape, "please take my share of the winnings as well. I never wanted to gain from this venture."

"And mine," Snape said in an annoyed tone. "If I don't do this, she'll rub my face in it."

Through the use of silent intimidation, Professor McGonagall managed to get everyone else in the small group to agree. It was at that point, Albus Dumbledore walked into the room.

"I am afraid I have some bad news for the Weasley Twins," Dumbledore said in a serious tone, "and everyone else who is here."

Lydia Spencer turned to the headmaster and said, "Albus, it was the most amazing thing. Everyone contributed their winnings to the hospital fund."

"I am completely amazed," Dumbledore said, as he looked at a smiling McGonagall.

  
  


A small crowd of students sat in the common room after the match. Malcolm sat at a table with Hermione, while she helped Dewey write a letter. Hedwig perched on a fourth chair giving appreciative looks at her adopted child. On a nearby couch, the twins were explaining events to everyone.

"I didn't realize," Ron said, after his brothers told him the complete story. "If I had known, I would have never said anything."

"I think it's great," Dewey said, "I'm telling Francis all about it."

"Are you done?" Hermione asked, "We'll get an owl and send it to your brother."

"That's okay," Dewey said, getting out of his chair. "I can handle it."

"What?" Malcolm asked as Dewey walked up to him.

"I have a letter to Francis," Dewey said, holding it out to him, "You're an owl. Deliver it."

"I am not an . . . " Malcolm said as Dewey shoved the letter into his mouth.

"YOU"RE AN OWL," Dewey shouted, "Deliver it or I'll tell Mom."

"Maybe you should deliver it," Hermione said, laughing, "It'll give you a chance to visit your brother."

Harry joined in, saying, "Hedwig sounds like she's willing to show you how."

The white owl hooted, and after a few more laughing remarks, Malcolm agreed. He changed into an owl, and perched on the chair, holding out his leg. Hermione showed Dewey how to tie the letter, and had someone open a window. Malcolm then followed Hedwig when she flew out into the evening air.

Shortly thereafter, Professor McGonagall walked into the common room. "Professor Dumbledore needs to talk to Malcolm. Does anyone know where he is?"

No one spoke. Hermione Granger tried to think of a logical reason why Malcolm would deliver a letter. All of the Weasleys, as though one person, searched for the nearest exits. Harry Potter closed his eyes and pretended he was asleep, a trick he had picked up from Neville, sitting next to him, who was also giving a convincing snore. In the middle of the stunned silence, Dewey said, "He went to the park this morning. He hasn't come back yet?"

  
  



	10. Sweet Home Alabama

CHAPTER 11: SWEET HOME ALABAMA 

Francis heard pecking at his window, and opened it. A tawny owl flew in and landed on top of a chair. Francis untied the letter and pointed the owl to the corn nuts and water. He opened the letter as a voice said, "can I get a soda or something instead, and I'm kinda hungry."

Francis looked over to see Malcolm standing there, "Cripes," he yelled, "Malcolm, how did you get here?"

"I flew," Malcolm said, pointing at the window, "I learned a new trick at school. Dewey wrote you a letter and asked me to deliver it."

"They let you do that?" Francis asked.

"I didn't ask any of the teachers," Malcolm said, "but all of my friends said it was okay."

"Malcolm, all of your friends are witches and wizards. For them, anything goes. I want you to understand that what you are doing is wrong. I hope you covered your tracks."

"I didn't really plan it, Francis, but Dewey was at the school. I can blame him."

"That's a bit of luck," Francis said, "That covers you as far as mom goes. What about the teachers?"

"I've thought of that," Malcolm said, "but I can't tell anyone until I get caught."

Francis nodded. "You're right. This is a perfect scenario for the 'I didn't know' excuse."

Stan walked in, and eyed the twelve-year-old boy in pointed hat and robes. "Uhm, Francis, does the kid know Hallowe'en isn't until next month."

"Stan, this is my little brother, Malcolm. He just flew over from England to pay me a visit."

"Nice to meet you, Malcolm," Stan said, "How do you feel after your flight?"

"My arms are tired," Malcolm said, "but other than that, I'm fine."

Stan looked at Francis and said, "If he wasn't your brother, I would have taken that as a joke. What's the story?"

"Malcolm can turn into an owl," Francis said, "He delivers his own mail, now."

"Cool," Stan said, "He'll save a fortune on postage."

"And who is this?" demanded Commandant Spangler, as he walked in the room.

Malcolm looked up at the one-eyed man as Francis and Stan snapped to attention. "This is my brother, Malcolm, Sir," Francis said, "He came by to visit me."

"And, pray tell," Spangler said, sarcastically, "why is he wearing a robe?"

"I'm in the choir at school," Malcolm said quickly, "I wanted to show Francis how I looked."

"Ah, a choir," the commandant said with a smile, "I love music. Sing something for me." Then he added, forcefully, pointing his hook, "NOW."

Malcolm dutifully sang the first stanza of America the Beautiful. Before he was done, Spangler stopped him and said, "That was ghastly. What are you doing in the school choir?"

"I turn the sheet music for the organist, Sir," Malcolm said with a smile.

"It is my sincere hope that you will be leaving shortly," Commandant Spangler said, only to shout, "Who the hell are you?" as a robed man suddenly appeared.

"I'm David Winter, Department of Magic," the man said as he drew his wand. "Oblivate," he said, waving the wand, "nothing happened in here, go and take a nap."

Spangler turned and left, a glazed look on his face.

"Can you make him forget he's a sadistic jerk?" Francis asked.

David Winter glared at him, then turned to Malcolm, "Your headmaster sent me an emergency message saying you had left the school grounds without permission, and that you would, most likely, be here. He even mentioned possible expulsion. Please tell me you have a reasonable explanation for being here. I would love for you to continue your education."

[That's why I like Mr. Winter. He'll do anything to keep me at Hogwarts. He even asked if they have a summer school.]

"Please tell me you're not related to them," Stan said to David Winter.

"Happily, I'm not," David said, turning to the young black man, "but Malcolm here has been made my personal assignment." Turning to Malcolm, he said, "Well?"

David shuddered as Malcolm gave him an innocent smile. Then he braced himself for whatever lame excuse followed. Malcolm widened his grin and said, "I was delivering a letter, Sir, and I flew here."

"I've heard about your skills on a broom, Malcolm. That isn't even a believable excuse."

"He didn't use a broom," Stan said, with a smile of his own. "Show him Malcolm," he said and held out his arm. Malcolm transformed into an owl and perch on the proffered arm.

[The look on his face is priceless. I wish Colin was here with his camera.]

"Merlin's Beard," David Winter gasped, as Malcolm transformed back, "How long have you been able to do that?"

"I was registered as an animagus, this afternoon," he answered proudly, "I even caught the snitch."

[I love when his eyes glaze over like that.]

"Don't explain that last line to me," David said, "but . . . why are you delivering letters."

"I was told that I had to, since I was an owl"

"Which teacher told you that?" David said, waiting for the punch line.

"Well," Malcolm said, "It wasn't one of the teachers, it was the older students. I thought they would know."

"Nice excuse," David said, with a nod of his head, "I think you could get away with it."

"What's a snitch?" Francis asked.

"It's this little golden ball that goes really fast," Malcolm said, "I caught it as an owl."

"Wait a minute," Stan said, "Owls can't see in the daytime."

"You're right, but my hearing is excellent. I was able to find it by listening for it."

"It's that good?"

"Yeah, like when I changed, just now, there were two guys in the hallway arguing about where I placed the mirrors."

"Malcolm," David interrupted, "Can you fly back without a problem?"

"Oh, Yeah," Malcolm said, "It only took me a few hours to get here. The owl post is close to the school, and the transfer point is close to here, kind of."

"So you didn't fly all the way?" Francis asked.

"No way, I'd never make it," Malcolm said, "but it's just like the regular mail service. I can get from School to here, three times faster than I can get to London."

David put his hand on Malcolm's shoulder, and said, "get something to eat before you go, and I'll talk to your headmaster and explain it away, so you won't get in trouble at school. And Malcolm, the next time you do something like this, DON'T."

After David disapparated, Francis left Malcolm to get him some food. He came back and Malcolm was asleep in the chair. He and Stan put him in the bed, and closed the door. "He's pretty tired for so early in the day," Stan said.

"It's the time difference," Francis said, "For him, it's almost midnight. I'll wake him up before it's time for us to hit the sack."

"He'll miss classes," Stan said.

"Then I'll wait until morning," Francis said, "Malcolm will appreciate that."

  
  


"Malcolm, what happened to you," Ginny asked, "What did Dumbledore do to you."

"It was scary," Malcolm said, "he didn't do anything. All he did was ask me how I liked flying."

"No detention? No house points taken away? Nothing?" Ginny asked.

"All he said was that he would remember what I did," Malcolm said, sadly, adding, "and I have to talk to Dr. Spencer on a regular basis."

"She's a nice lady," Ginny said, "she loved all those stories I told about you."

"Ginny, she's a Psychiatrist, a shrink, a head doctor."

"Oh. Sorry, Malcolm," Ginny said with a grin. "She probably thinks you're crazy after all those things I said."

[I want to scream so badly. There isn't anything wrong with me. I'm completely normal. Okay, I can turn into an owl. And I do have the highest IQ in the school. And my best friend is the school bully . . . Maybe I do need a doctor?]

Malcolm thought back to when he had returned from Francis's school. Dumbledore had taken him to task for it. Malcolm told everyone that Dumbledore was nice, and smiled, but that wasn't the case. In the end, he left it to Professor McGonagall to determine how to handle it, since she was in charge of Malcolm's house.

Professor McGonagall called him to her office, and asked Malcolm to promise never to do that again, except with permission.

"I promise," Malcolm said, waiting for the boom to fall.

"Then you can go," McGonagall said.

"What?" Malcolm said loudly, "I mean, excuse me, Professor, what did you say?"

"I said you can go," McGonagall told him.

"Wait a minute. That's it? I promise not to do it again, and I'm free to go."

"Yes, Malcolm. You promised not to do it again, and you are free to go."

"Well, what if I break my word?" Malcolm asked.

"Will you?" McGonagall replied.

"Uh. No. I just ran off like that because, you know, I . . . "

". . .wanted to show off," McGonagall concluded, "I know, Malcolm, and You know it was wrong. Your word is enough, and you know that as well." She opened a book and began to make notes in it, then looked up. "You're still here," she said.

"Yes, Ma'am," Malcolm said, "I wanted to know why you trust me."

Minerva McGonagall put down her quill and closed the book. "I trust you, Malcolm, because you are an animagus. I trust you because, of all the creatures you could have transformed into, you chose to become an owl. The forms we choose as animagi are a reflection of our character. I am a cat, cunning and sleek, and in my prime that fit me perfectly. But you are an owl, and a young owl. That speaks to me of budding wisdom, and the best way I can think to nurture that trait is to give you something very fragile, and that fragile thing is my trust. Can you understand that?"

[It's weird, but I'd rather yell at my mom, then do anything to make McGonagall mad at me, now. Draco says it my conscience, but that can't be right. It's never bothered me before.]

  
  


"Cadet, your name is?" Spangler asked.

"Uhm, It's me, Francis, Sir. Don't you remember me?"

"No, I don't, Cadet," Commandant Spangler said, nastily, "and don't think you can cuddle up to me, either. Ask any other cadet here, and they will tell you. I won't be pushed around." He jabbed his hook at Francis's chest, saying, "I'll be the one who does the pushing." With that, he left the room.

"That stinks," Francis said, "That spell made Spangler forget all about us, but he still has the same attitude."

"At least he doesn't remember all those things you've done," Stan pointed out.

"But that's the point," Francis said, "All those things, the exploding beer keg, the dung bombs, glueing his desk to the ceiling, they're all meaningless. Spangler is mean to me because he is just plain mean."

Stan saw the gleam in his roommate's eye, and asked, "Francis, what are you going to do?"

"I'm going to make an impression on him," Francis replied. "I will make him notice me, for what I am."

"And what are you, Francis?"

"An angry young man who wants to be hated for a specific reason, not on general principle. Spangler will always remember me," Francis said, "unless I go overboard, then I'll blame it on someone else."

  
  


"That was great, Malcolm," Dennis Creevey said, "I didn't know you could do that. I don't even mind losing the match."

"That makes you a party of one, Dennis. Everyone else bet that you'd win, and they blame me for it."

"You did catch the snitch," Dennis reminded him, "and nobody expected that. Can you show me how you change?"

"It's easy, and hard, at the same time." Malcolm said, "You have to have an affinity for the animal you want to change into, and you have to understand the animal. To say it simply, I can turn into an owl, because I can become an owl."

"Cool," Dennis said, "What does that mean?"

"Dennis," Colin called, "You shouldn't be hanging around Malcolm."

"Sorry Colin, I forgot he's not the proper sort, again," Dennis said, grinning. "I guess I'll have to stop taking those animagus lesson."

[Did you hear that? Dennis lied to his brother, the same way I would automatically lie to Reese. Do you think I might be contagious?]

"He's teaching you to be an animagus?" Colin asked in surprise.

"It's going to take time, Colin," Malcolm said, "but he does have what it takes."

"Really?" Colin said in surprise. "Thank you, Malcolm," he added, "for helping my brother. Do you honestly think he can learn?"

"Probably not as fast as I did," Malcolm said, "I had a few things in my favor, but yeah, I think he can learn how."

[I hope Dennis realizes. I now have to give him lessons. He may be spending more time with me than he wants to.]

Malcolm and Dennis went down to the Great Hall for breakfast. They watched as the owls arrived to deliver the morning mail. A barn owl swooped down, and deposited a red envelope in front of Malcolm and everyone began backing away.

"Aren't you going to open it?" Dennis asked. "It only gets worse if you wait."

"No," Malcolm said, "It doesn't matter as long as I don't open it."

"Wrong, it can burst open on its own, just because you handled it," Ginny shouted as she, along everyone else, covered her ears.

The letter burst open, and Lois, her voice magnified one hundred times began to shout.

"MALCOLM, HOW COULD YOU BE SO STUPID! DO YOU HAVE TO SHOW OFF EVERY TIME YOU LEARN A NEW TRICK? AND YOU LEFT SCHOOL WITHOUT TELLING ANYONE. WHAT IF SOMETHING HAPPENED? WHAT IF YOU GOT SHOT BY A POACHER OR SOMETHING? YOU INCONSIDERATE, SELFISH EXCUSE OF A HUMAN BEING. I WANT YOU KNEELING AGAINST THE WALL NOW, BACK STRAIGHT AND HANDS BEHIND YOUR HEAD. AND STAY THAT WAY UNTIL THE HEADMASTER SAYS YOU CAN MOVE."

Malcolm looked away from the wall, and said to the boy next to him, "Dennis, my mom was only talking to me."

"I don't want to take the chance," Dennis said.

"Neither do I," Ginny said, "I've met your mom."

Several other students voiced their agreement.

  
  


"Good Morning, Malcolm," Dr. Spencer said, "are you enjoying your weekend?"

"It's wonderful," Malcolm lied, "I've always wanted to go to a hospital on a regular basis."

Dr. Spencer smiled at his remark. "You don't have to be nervous. I was reading the reports of this past week, and you've made an impression on a great many people, Malcolm. In the middle of reviewing your case, however, I suddenly had an inspiration."

[I'm not going to like this.]

"Malcolm, since you can fly on your own, do you think you could overcome your fear of flying a broom? After all, you now have a safety net, so to speak."

[I'm not going to like this.]

"I was flying before the game," Malcolm said, "practicing with the owls, but I was still scared by the broom. I thought I would be fine, but . . . "

"Would you like to try?" Dr. Spencer asked.

[I hate being right.]

"No."

"Too bad. We're going outside. If you can fly a broom, you don't have to see me again. If you can't, then you have a serious problem, and broom flying is only a symptom of it."

"Great," Malcolm said, "If I can fly a broom, I'm sane. If I can't, I'm crazy. Just over a year ago, the reverse would have been true. LOOK, you're a nice lady, and you mean well, but you're looking at me the wrong way. I can't fly the broom, because I don't trust it. I don't know how it's made. It's like my dad's car. As soon as I understood what it was, I had to learn everything I could in order to enjoy riding in it. Magic flying brooms are still a new experience to me, even after a year. You show me one thing, and as I get used to it, you shove another thing at me. It takes time for me to adjust, and something has to slip by. That's all it is."

"Malcolm, calm down."

"NO, I am calm, "Malcolm shouted, "I'm trying to get you to listen. I'm not just a twelve-year-old boy. I am a very very smart twelve-year-old boy who has that fact shoved in his face everyday. And I don't have anyone I can talk to about THAT."

Dr. Spencer smiled politely, then said, "Have you tried talking to Hermione Granger. She can tell you how she feels. She is almost as smart as you are."

[What?]

"From the look on your face, Malcolm, you never realized that. You should pay attention to the people around you. You might have some pleasant surprises. Why haven't you tried talking to Hermione. I know she is fond of you."

"It's simple, Dr. Spencer. Her wanna-be boyfriend doesn't like me, because of my other friends."

Dr. Spencer frowned. Malcolm was good at giving the right answers if you just asked the wrong questions. "This is what I'm going to do, Malcolm, and you may not like it. I'll talk to you again, when I come up to Hogwarts in a couple of weeks. Try talking to other people, about how you feel. Find someone you can be completely honest with. Then you won't do such things as flying off to deliver letters, just because someone told you to. Things like that make you look foolish to other people."

Malcolm smiled at that last remark, and Dr. Spencer groaned as she realized she had been taken in. It was obvious this boy knew what he was doing, all along. "Malcolm," she said in exasperation, "How did you manage to convince an American Official that you were misled?"

"It was his idea," Malcolm explained, "I wanted to go with the 'bad judgement call' excuse. David will do anything to keep me at Hogwarts."

"He must like you a great deal, to go to this extent."

"Not exactly," Malcolm said.

  
  


". . .And it was great," Malcolm said, "right after that she decided that I didn't have to see her anymore. She said I was recalcitrant. I haven't been called that before."

Basil ignored him completely, and continued to play with his blocks.

"Malcolm, such interesting things happen to you," the nurse said, then added softly. "Basil is clearly happy that you are here. Your 'brother' has been facing you the entire time. But I'm afraid it's time for you to go."

"I love coming here, too," Malcolm said, "the little squirt kind of grows on you." Then he added, "I never showed him. Do you mind?"

The nurse nodded and Malcolm stood up. As Basil raised his head at the movement, Malcolm transformed, and a small tawny owl landed in front of the blocks. The nurse watched in pleasant amazement as Basil started to laugh. He petted the owl briefly, but then, as though nothing had happened, he turned back to his blocks. Malcolm changed back, and said, sadly, "Goodbye, Basil."

The boy stopped playing, and looked up at Malcolm, smiling. He then stopped smiling and went back to his blocks. Malcolm left the room as Basil Smythe was put to bed.

  
  


As Malcolm walked past the nurses station, he heard his name called. One of the nurses, her name tag said Carla Hull, asked, "Are you the student animagus?"

"Uh, Yeah," Malcolm answered.

"I thought I recognized you," Nurse Hull said, "Malcolm, I have a favor to ask you. I know the children will love it."

[Children?]

"We have some children who have had serious injuries and need long term care. Most of them have to stay in their beds, and we try to play games where they can still interact. One of them is called Owl Post . . . "

"And you would like me to be the owl." Malcolm said, grinning.

"It would be a treat for the children, but I should warn you, though, these children have been injured badly, and most of them are having arms and legs regrown."

"That won't be a problem. I'd love to do it," Malcolm said, "but you have to hold out your arm."

Nurse Hull held out her arm and started to ask why, but Malcolm had already transformed, and perched gently on her forearm. Smiling she walked him down the hall, to the children's ward.

"Are you ready, children?" she said, as she walked into the room. Eight children, between six and nine, gave out shouts of delight when they saw the owl. Malcolm ruffled his feathers, for show, and hooted. Eight voices shouted in joy. "This is Malcolm," Nurse Hull said, "He's only a little boy for an owl, but he came all the way from Hogwarts to play with us today." She waved her wand, and quills and paper appeared on the trays by each child's bed.

Malcolm flew to the first child, and she held out a letter. Malcolm picked it up, and she whispered, "Mikey." Malcolm flew to Mike's bed (only sissy girls called him Mikey) and gave him the letter.

[That was the weirdest thing to get used to about being an owl. Whenever someone gives me a letter, I can immediately sense where the person is. I won't tell you how I know this. McGonagall thinks that Francis was the only person I ever delivered a letter to.]

"It's Mike," Mike called out angrily, "I'm eight. I'm too old to be called Mikey. I can't wait for my leg to grow back so I can walk out of here."

Mike sent a letter back that said, "Dear Shana, Grils Stink, Love MIKE."

The time flew by, and so did Malcolm, occasionally stopping to peck at an ear, or let someone pet him. Then one girl began to frantically wave her letter in the air. Malcolm flew over to her bed, and took the letter in his beak. The girl said something to him, and the owl flew out of the nearest open window.

"Rebecca," Nurse Hull asked carefully, "We were only supposed to send letters to someone in the room, Who did you send a letter to?"

Rebecca looked down at her blanket and said, "My new Mommy and Daddy."

"But Honey," the nurse said, "you know you have to get well first. Your arm won't be healed for at least another three weeks, and your leg will take a t least one more week after that. We can't find you a new Mommy and Daddy until then."

The seven-year-old began to cry. "But Malcolm can find them today," she said between her sobs, "Owls can always find people."

Rebecca was still crying, a half hour later, when Shana called out, "It's Malcolm." She looked up and saw Nurse Hull looking very confused. Next to her was a young couple, with Malcolm the Owl perched on the man's arm. They walked over to her bed, and the lady said, "Hello Becca, we received your letter."

Rebecca looked at her in awe, "My Mommy always called me Becca. You MUST be my new Mommy."

"It's not that simple," the woman started to say, but her husband interrupted her. They shared a glance that spoke volumes. Then the man said to Rebecca, "First, you have to get completely well."

"I will," Rebecca promised.

Malcolm flew out of the ward and transformed once he was out of sight of the children.

"What happened?" Nurse Hull asked.

"It was strange," Malcolm said, "I felt like I was pulled along. I get that feeling as an owl. It's how I find people. But this time I was being pulled every which way. That couple was the closest and one of the strongest that I felt. They were even talking about adoption when I handed them the letter. Please don't tell anybody. I'm not supposed to be delivering letters, for real I mean."

[I'm dead. She's going to tell everybody.]

"Malcolm, You are amazing," Nurse Hull said, and gave him a hug.

  
  
  
  



	11. Return To Sender

CHAPTER 12: RETURN TO SENDER 

Malcolm walked into the Great Hall and sat down to breakfast. Ginny sat next to him and asked, "How did your session go?"

EJ laughed from the other side of the table, as Malcolm said, "I don't have to go any more. The doctor said I was incurable."

Ginny looked at him in disbelief, then joined EJ in laughter.

"Ah, Malcolm, my favorite student," Professor McGonagall said, "I am pleased to tell you that you are excused from your morning classes. Professor Dumbledore is very eager to talk to you, and he does not want to wait until this evening."

"How does that Death March go?" asked EJ.

  
  


Malcolm walked into the Headmaster's office, and sat down in the appointed chair. Dumbledore picked up a letter from the stack in front of him and said, "Doctor Spencer wrote me a letter about your session on Saturday. It was very informative."

"I can explain," Malcolm said."

"Doctor Spencer explains it very well, Malcolm. She called you recalcitrant, reckless, and lacking in all moral virtues. She concludes by suggesting that you should be expelled from this school, and that the less magic your know will make things better for everyone else. By the time I finished reading her letter, I agreed."

Dumbledore looked at Malcolm with a withering stare. As the boy tried to crawl through the chair to get behind it, Dumbledore put the letter down with a thump, and picked up the next letter in the stack. "After finishing the first letter, I began reading this letter, also from St. Mungo's. It reads, 'On behalf of the staff members at our hospital, we thank you for sending one of your students to help entertain some of our younger patients.' It is from the Director of the hospital, thanking me for letting our youngest animagus, that would be you Malcolm, spend the day with various groups of children."

The letter went on top of the first one with another loud Thump. Malcolm stared as Dumbledore picked up a third letter, and said, "This one is from Carla Hull. She is a pediatrics nurse at St. Mungo's. She wanted to let me know that it wasn't anyone's fault. They were playing a game of Owl Post and you had agreed to be the owl. Nurse Hull was very upset when you flew out of the window, but she is glad that everything turned out fine in the end."

Malcolm closed his eyes as he heard the telltale THUMP. He opened them again when Dumbledore said, "This next letter is written in crayon. Shana, I can't make out the last name, thinks you are wonderful and would like to buy you. She has saved up Three Sickles and Twelve Knits, and promises to write me often so you can still visit. I was very tempted to accept her offer." THUMP.

"This is an interesting letter," Dumbledore said with a withering smile, "Mister and Missus Dutton wanted to inform me that you are the most wonderful person in the world. They fell in love with Becca, instantly, and are convinced adoption will not be a problem. You have turned their life into Heaven." THUMP.

"I have twelve more letters here, including another one from Doctor Spencer saying that she heard about what happened, and she no longer knows what to make of you." Dumbledore looked and Malcolm and simply said, "Well?"

[I have no idea if he is mad at me or not.]

"Rebecca wanted a new Mom and Dad and gave me a letter addressed to my, I mean, her new parents," Malcolm said, "And I delivered it to the closest appropriate couple."

"And what made Doctor Spencer decide we should get rid of you."

"She found out that David Winter lied to you, so that I could stay here." THUMP.

[I think I should have lied on that question.]

"Malcolm," Dumbledore said, evenly, "I should tell you that Mister Winter did not lie to me. He lied to you about lying to me to see if that would help keep you in line. I will have to tell him that the answer is no. As for playing delivery service, I talked about that with Professor McGonagall, and she said that you did nothing wrong. She means that, by the way." Dumbledore added with a smile, "She also said that, for anyone else, it would have been a noble gesture."

[Wait a minute. That means I'm not in trouble for anything. What am I here for?]

"Malcolm, do you understand what you have done? It is only a matter of time before this incident makes the papers. The Daily Prophet is regularly attacking this school in its articles, and has used you once, already, to show that they are being fair. They will be sure to give this story front page coverage, perhaps as early as tomorrow. Wizard Weekly has already owled me about doing a feature on you as an animagus. You will soon have a great deal of notoriety. Are you prepared for that?"

[I can see the headlines now: Two-Headed Baby Mutates Into Owl. Goes Postal.]

"I was trying to be nice," Malcolm said, "I didn't mean to do anything good."

"I want you to be prepared," Albus said, "There will be a great many reporters at the school because of the tournament, and they will try to talk to you as well. I would advise you not to talk to any of them."

[Can you see this headline?: Malcolm Mum. OwlBoy Doesn't Give A Hoot.]

"I'll try, Sir. I'll warn my friends as well. Is there anything else?"

[I really hope he says no.]

"There are these other letters," Albus said. "Timmy's parents wanted to thank you. You made their son laugh for the first time, since he had gone into the hospital."

[That was when I flew into the bedpost.]

"Also, Joseph wants us to send something more dangerous next time. He suggested a basilisk. (I will have to tell him that one of our students killed that last one we had.) Mike wanted to tell me that you were great and Grils Still Stink. (I'm sure he'll change his mind in a few years.) Clara, who called me Professor Dimpledore, thinks you are very cute, and, most of all, Rebecca wanted me to give you a special owl treat, which she sent with her letter."

Malcolm stared as the headmaster held out the object to him. "It's a dead mouse, Sir."

"Yes it is," Dumbledore said with a chuckle, "but I want to note that it is your dead mouse. Please take it with you when you leave."

"Yes Sir," Malcolm said, as he picked up the mouse by its tail. As he turned to leave, Dumbledore called him back.

"Malcolm, I told the Director of St. Mungo's that you would have no objection to visiting the hospital at least once a month for the rest of the school year. We agreed that at least one other student should chaperone you. Mr. Malfoy has graciously accepted that task."

  
  


Hedwig was grateful to Malcolm for the morning snack.

  
  



	12. The Guests Arrive

A/N: Briefly, I want to thank my faithful reviewers, and all of you who are reading my story.

Ariane Derault did point out that the scene changes are sometimes hard to pick out, and I have tried several things without success, (Wordperfect and Microsoft Word do not mesh very well,) that I've inserted an asterix between scene changes to make them more obvious. I do hope this helps.

Also, Harriet commented on how well I can write and update so quickly. The truth is that I cannot. I have already written the entire story over a period of three to four months. I am posting them at the rate of one per day, so that I can do last minute proofing, and make changes as needed. (See note above.) I have tried previously to write stories and post them as I've finished the chapters, but I end up discovering things that should have been included in earlier chapters, and the stories suffer as a result. Also, reviewers will occasionally point something out that I missed, forcing me to edit later chapters.

I wish I could be confident enough to post chapters as they are finished, but one effects of that would have been that Malcolm never receives a dead mouse. I think the story is better because of that, and I know Hedwig appreciated it.

Thanks again - HiBob  
  


CHAPTER 13: THE GUESTS ARRIVE 

"I'm cold," Malcolm said to no one in particular. He was stuck in the back of the crowd of students, right next to the teachers, but wasn't really annoyed about it

"So am I," EJ said, "but I don't want to miss this. I can't wait for them to get here."

"Let me know when that happens," Malcolm said, changing into an owl. He surveyed the crowd in the waning light, and when Professor McGonagall held out her arm, Malcolm perched there, happy for the better view.

[It's a lot warmer as an owl, and the view is a lot better, too. The students from Durmstrang and Beauxbaton were scheduled to arrive at six o'clock to take part in the Tri-Wizard Tournament. They're late.]

Malcolm heard the horses before he saw them, and called out. Albus Dumbledore heard his hooting and followed his line of sight. He raised his voice, and said to the gathered students, "Aha! Unless I am very much mistaken, the delegation from Beauxbatons approaches."

Malcolm looked over to see the Headmaster wink at him. Then he noticed Professor McGonagall watching him, with a wistful smile on her face. He pecked affectionately at her ear, and turned to watch the proceedings.

[Professor McGonagall turned out to be a really cool teacher. It's not that she's nicer to me now. It's that we know each other more. The weird thing is, she still doesn't cut me any slack. She just puts me down in real nice words. Personally, I liked it better when she yelled at me.]  
  


*  
  


"Yeah, that was something," Malcolm said, in between bites. "I really liked it when that ship came out of the lake."

"What about the Goblet of Fire?" EJ asked, as he grabbed another roll, "I wonder who will enter?"

"Malcolm, are you going to try and enter," Ginny asked, while she and EJ adopted identical grins.

"No Way," Malcolm said, "I might get picked. I don't want to take the chance."

EJ's grin widened as he said, "I believe him."

"I don't want to change the subject," Ginny said, looking down the table "but my brother is drooling over that Veela again. Ron is so pathetic at times."

"Veela?" Malcolm asked.

"They cast an illusion spell on men," Ginny explained. "Men, and BOYS, only think she looks beautiful"

"I've known prettier girls," Neville said, and smiled when Ginny looked at him.

"He's talking about you," Dewey said, popping out from under the table.

[I would swear he wasn't there a minute ago. I have to find out how he does that.]

Ginny blushed at Dewey's remark, and everyone laughed. To change the subject, Malcolm asked his brother if he was coming to the school for Hallowe'en.

"Mom won't let me," Dewey complained, "She says I have to go trick or treating, and that Reese has to take me."

[My parents do that every year. All of us have to go out, and stay out as long as possible. Do you know when Dewey was born? July 31. Do you know why that is a significant date? It's exactly nine months after Hallowe'en.]

"Too bad you couldn't bring Reese here," Ginny said jokingly, "We're having another feast, tomorrow night."

"That's a great idea," Dewey said, happily, as everyone around the table paled.  
  


*  
  


"They're at it again," Ginny said, nodding at the Twins.

"What are they up to?" EJ asked, knowing already.

"They want to enter the Tournament, but they're too young," she said. "I think Fred and George are working on an aging spell. They think they can put their names in the Goblet of Fire."

"Will it work?" EJ asked, laughing.

"I doubt it," Malcolm said, "I think the magic around the cup knows how old you are, not just how old you look."  
  


*  
  


It was late, and no one else was awake. Malcolm slipped on his robes and made his way to the common room. It was empty, to his relief, and he made his way out, and headed for the Great Hall. He walked into the Great Hall and up to the golden ring that had been drawn around the Goblet of Fire. He saw someone familiar standing inside the age line.

"Hi, Hermione," he said.

Hermione jumped at the sound. "Malcolm, did you have to sneak up on me," she said with a nervous laugh. "Did you follow me, or are you here on your own?"

"I came on my own," Malcolm said. "I ate so much, that I couldn't sleep." He approached the edge of the age line, pulled out his wand, and whispered a spell. He crossed the line and walked up to Hermione. "Did you put your name in?" he asked.

"No," Hermione said. "I don't plan to, either," she added, "I only wanted to see if I could get past the age line. Are you putting your name in?"

"Not mine," Malcolm said, as he showed her a piece of paper. He reached over and dropped it into the goblet. The paper flared as it fell into the cup. "I thought Mrs. Norris would like the honor of representing the school."

"Malcolm, you are truly hopeless," Hermione said, laughing.

"And the two of you are truly amazing," Albus Dumbledore said from behind them. As they turned around, startled, he added, "I find it interesting that the only two students to bypass the safeguards around the goblet, are perhaps the only two students unwilling to take advantage of that fact. But I think it is time the two of you headed back to your house."

Dutifully the two students followed the headmaster as he led the way back to the Gryffindor common room. As the sounds of their footsteps faded, a figure stepped out of the shadows and approached the Goblet, dropped in a name, and left quickly, making sure that no one was around to see what had occurred.  
  


*  
  


"I'm curious," Hermione asked, "what kind of spell did you use?"

"A spell of misdirection," Malcolm answered, "When I entered the circle, I left the impression that I was walking the other way. Is that what you did?"

"Nothing that fancy," Hermione said, "I like to keep things simple. I used a reversal spell. Instead of being noticed, I was being not noticed. It was easier, I think, than your spell."

"My congratulations to both of you," Dumbledore said, "The two of you concentrated on the key facet of the spell, instead of the minor point of judging your age. If the spell doesn't know you are there, it can't do anything. I'd give you each ten points, but I'd have to take them back because you were out of your rooms, after hours." With a chuckle, he gave the password to the Fat Lady, and ushered the two students inside.

"Malcolm," Hermione said, "When you tell them what you did, please don't mention that I was there. I don't want to get a reputation for being a know-it-all, again."

"I'm not telling anybody," Malcolm said with a smile, "I realized that if anyone finds out, they'll all be after me to put their names in, or tell them how I did it."

"Malcolm isn't going to brag?" Hermione asked. "That IS a new twist. I think you're finally growing up. Tell me how it feels, thinking about the consequences of your actions?"

"I've always thought about the consequences," Malcolm said, "I just never cared about them, before."

"I was right, Malcolm. You are hopeless." With that remark, Hermione went off to bed.  
  


*  
  


"Malcolm," Ginny said, "did you sleep in that chair all night?"

"No, only half the night," Malcolm said, "I spent the other half trying to sleep."

"I told you," Ginny said. "You ate too much."

"Well, I never get food like this at home," Malcolm said, "My mom even has six layer casserole every Thursday. Everything left over from the past week is put in one big bowl. In bad weeks, the six layer casserole has seven layers."

"Thank you, Malcolm. I am no longer in the mood for breakfast," Ginny said, as she slumped into the chair next to Malcolm. "Do you think Dewey will show up tonight?"

"If he does, he'll bring Reese with him," Malcolm said. "I'm hoping that happens, because it will be my best chance to find out how he gets here."  
  


*  
  


"We're going to be late," Dewey complained to Reese, "I don't want to miss out on this because of you."

"Like you can do anything about it," Reese said, sarcastically. "I may not want to go."

"You want to go," Lois said, coming into the room. "This is one of the few days your father and I can plan on being alone. You either go to this party, or you can take your brother trick or treating for the next eight hours. You decide."

"I'm ready for a party," Reese said with enthusiasm.

"Oh Dewey, you're wearing your costume," Lois said, "He looks so cute. Doesn't he, Hal?"

"That's a clever costume, son," Hal said, "are you going to be a wizard, just like your big brother."

"Daaad," Dewey whined, pulling out a black helmet and face mask, "I'm Darth Vader. Dressing up like a wizard is for weenies."  
  


*  
  


"Time to go," EJ told Malcolm, "The feast will be starting soon."

"Reese might be coming," Malcolm said.

"I've got my wand," EJ said, "I can handle it."

"Dewey will be there."

"I'll be sitting with the Ravenclaws. I can handle that, too."

The two walked downstairs into the crowded common room. "Fred and George shaved," EJ said, "They looked good in white beards."

"How many students got tripped up by that aging line?" Malcolm asked.

"I think six was the final total," EJ said, "but the twins had the best facial hair."  
  


*  
  


"Okay, we're here Dewey," Reese said, "Now get lost." Shoving his brother out of the way, he walked into the Great Hall and looked around. "These are some cool decorations," he said, staring at the flying bats and floating pumpkins. Walking up to a table he grabbed what looked like cookies, eating one and putting the rest in his shirt pocket. Then he spotted a familiar face, and walked over to the Slytherin table.  
  


*  
  


"I was trying to be polite," Draco Malfoy said to the Durmstrang student, Menchkov. "After all, we are on the same side."

"We don't object to what you are said," Menchkov told him, "It is your effort to act as an equal that we find annoying. If you did share our views, you would be going to our school. Instead you are here, mocking us." The visitor smiled as Draco fumed in anger. He then turned his head, when Draco looked up and over his shoulder.

"Drakster, My Man," Reese said, loudly, "And who's your friend." He patted the Durmstrang student on the back and said, "I couldn't help hearing your annoying little lecture. I liked the big words, but I'm kind off a simple guy, if you know what I mean. Back to Basics, that kind of thing."

"And your point is?" Menchkov said.

"It's easy," Reese said, leaning into him, "We'll decide who's better by a simple contest. You will try and cast any kind of spell you want at me, and I'll try to rearrange your face without using magic. Do you agree?" he asked, raising his fist.

"You are crude in your manners, to say the least," the student said, eyeing Reese's fist.

"Hey," Reese said in a happy voice, "Crude! I know that word. And I learned a new word too. Effective! So, do you want to play with me?" Reese punctuated his last sentence with a couple of light punches to the student's shoulder. "Huh, how about it. It's easy to mouth off when you don't think anyone will do anything. Say something now."

The student stared at Reese with a mixture of anger and confusion. He looked around and saw his fellow students preparing to fight the Slytherins, and the Slytherins more than willing to fight back. Reese continued to smile as though nothing was going on. A small touch of fear was added to the mixture.

"I taught Draco a new phrase over the summer," Reese said, with a touch of menace, "Are you Ready to Rumble? I learned that from TV. And how about this phrase? Put up or Shut up. You talk big, but you don't act it, WIMP." Reese let go of the Durmstrang student, adding, "If you won't defend your remarks, don't make them. Understand?" With that, Reese walked away. Looking back, he said, "Drakster, you need to get better friends."

The Durmstrang student was standing now, with his wand drawn. "I've decided to accept your challenge after all." He raised his wand, and began to cast a spell.

Reese smiled. He was in his element, and had been threatened by Draco enough times to know what was coming. He crumbled the cookies he had taken out of his pocket and tossed them at the red-robed student who startled at the surprise assault. In three quick steps, Reese grabbed the wand, and broke it in half, as applause broke out around him.

"Well done," Professor Snape said evenly, as he walked up to the table, "an excellent demonstration of defense against a magical attack. Remember, students, that magic is not always the only solution." He smiled at all of the students who were now watching him. He picked up the broken wand and handed it to the Durmstrang student. "What a terrible accident," Snape said tonelessly, "It will hamper you if you are chosen as school champion, but I don't think you will have to worry about that."

"Can I still hit him?" Reese asked.

"Sadly, no," Snape said, "but I do admire your initiative . . . Reese?"

"Yeah," Reese said, "I'm Malcolm's brother. You know, Bird Boy."

"There was never any doubt," Snape said calmly.

"Is there a problem?" a new voice said.

"Professor Karkaroff," Snape said, "One of your students had an accident with his wand."

Reese turned around, and saw the Durmstrang Professor and someone else. "Viktor Krum!" he shouted, as Malfoy, Snape, and Krum rolled their eyes. "I saw you play Ireland. You were great. You were robbed in that game."

"I remember your voice," Krum said, as he shook Reese's hand. "You ver shouting, 'Get It. Get It. You got it, Babe."

"You heard me?" Reese asked in amazement, as he shook Viktor's hand, "I'll never wash this hand again. I've got to tell my brother."

"What a curious student," Karkaroff said as Reese took off.  
  


*  
  


"Malcolm, guess who I met," Reese said, "Viktor Krum. He even shook my hand."

"?" said Malcolm, while everyone around him politely laughed.

"Try thinking the Michael Jordan of Quidditch," Reese said in disgust, "If you're so smart, how come you don't know anything?"

"Who's Michael Jordan?" Ginny asked.

Reese started to give her his lecture on the history of basketball, when Draco Malfoy walked up. "Hello, Love," Draco said to Ginny, as he interrupted.

"Do you have to call me that?" Ginny asked brusquely.

"Sorry, Love," Draco said, smiling "It won't happen again." He turned to Reese, and asked, "would you like to join the Slytherins at our table? You made a very positive impression on everyone, well, everyone that matters, and it would help to put the Durmstrang students in their place."

"I'd love to," Reese said, happily, "Do you hear that, Malcolm? I get to spend the evening with Viktor Krum."

"I didn't know you were into Quidditch," Draco said.

"I'm new to the sport," Reese said, "but I've picked up a lot already. Did you know that these kids didn't know what I was talking about? They don't even know who Michael Jordan is. Bunch of losers."

"I'm not surprised at their ignorance," Draco said as they walked away, then glanced back at Malcolm with a questioning look as he mouthed the word 'Jordan.'

Malcolm shrugged his shoulders, and said nothing.

"That was a strange conversation," EJ said.

"For Reese that was an intelligent conversation," Neville told him. "At least Malfoy took Reese with him."

Malcolm laughed and said, "And you thought the Slytherins weren't good for anything."

"Malcolm," Ginny said, "Where's Dewey?"

"Over there," Amber Dowling said, pointing to the Ravenclaw table. Malcolm looked over and saw Dewey talking to the Veela. He said something, and the girl laughed, and gave him a kiss on the cheek. Then he showed her his Darth Vader mask, and pointed at the Gryffindor table. The girl and some of her friends looked directly at Malcolm and scowled.

[I bet Dewey told them I made him bring that mask. I hate when that little runt does that. They always believe him.]

Malcolm watched as the Beauxbaton students made room for Dewey to join them. Happily, he turned back to his friends and said, "That's great. We got rid of Dewey as well."

"But he's such a cute little boy," Amber said, "How can you be so cruel to him?"

"He is not a cute little boy," Malcolm and Ginny said together.  


*

  
  


Albus Dumbledore called everyone to order. He then went to the Goblet of Fire and caught the paper that came out. He read the name 'Viktor Krum' and Reese could be heard loudest among those at the Slytherin table. An embarrassed Viktor walked up and was lead to another room. Then another name was read, Fleur Delacour, and Malcolm looked over to the Ravenclaw table. A couple of the Beauxbaton students were actually crying that they were not chosen. Meanwhile Fleur, the veela girl, gave Dewey a big hug, then got up and followed Viktor Krum. The third name was called, and the Hufflepuff table went wild. Their Quidditch team captain, Cedric Diggory stood up and went to join the other two students.

Dumbledore began to speak when a fourth piece of paper came out. In a surprised voice, he read the name, 'Harry Potter'. Malcolm looked over at Potter and saw his surprised look. He then caught Hermione's eye, giving her a questioning look. She shook her head. She hadn't put anyone's name in the Goblet.

After some confusion, Harry got up and joined the rest of the 'champions'. The Hallowe'en feast began with everyone talking about the last addition to the tournament.

"How did he do it?" EJ asked first among their group.

"He didn't," Malcolm said, "I know I didn't put his name in, and Hermione didn't either. Someone else must have."

[Good going, Malcolm. So much for not telling anybody.]

"You, and Hermione?" Ginny asked. "What do you mean by that?"

"What do you think he meant?" Neville said, "they are the two smartest students in the school."

"Did the two of you put your names in?" Amber asked. When Malcolm shook his head, she added, "Why Not?"

"The tournament is dangerous enough for seventh years," Neville answered, again, "I told you, they ARE the two smartest students in the school."

"Why didn't you say anything before?" Ginny asked Malcolm.

"I didn't want to show off," Malcolm said, humbly.

After everyone stopped laughing, Ginny asked, "Seriously, why didn't you say anything?"

You see? No one believes me when I tell them the truth.

"He told you the truth," Dennis Creevey said from behind Malcolm, causing the older boy to jump.

[Why do they always sneak up on me like that?]

"Malcolm," Dennis asked, "Colin thought you would know what happened, about Harry. If you want, I'll tell him you did put his name in. Then he'll like you again."

"Dennis, your brother doesn't want to like me. He doesn't even like the lessons I'm giving you."

"You're giving Dennis lessons?" Ginny asked.

"He's teaching me to be an animagus," Dennis said, "He already taught me that I'm not a natural at it like he is. I guess he's going to be giving me lessons for a long time."

"Malcolm," Ginny said, smiling, "That's wonderful. You're finally developing a mature attitude."

"Look, I'm tired of this," Malcolm said, snapping, "Ever since the year started, people have been telling me that I'm finally growing up, that I'm finally becoming an adult, that I'm finally developing a mature attitude. I haven't changed. I'm still me. I DO NOT HAVE A MATURE ATTITUDE."

"I stand corrected," Ginny said, as everyone laughed at the now red-faced Malcolm.

[I HATE when I do that.]  
  


"Reese, can I talk to you," Malcolm said, as he walked up to the Slytherin table.

"Make it quick," Reese replied.

"I just wanted to know how you got here," Malcolm said.

"I have no idea," Reese said, turning back to the girl he was talking to.

"Wait a minute. How can you have no idea how you got here. Were you asleep or something?"

"Malcolm, I'm trying to have an intelligent conversation," Reese said, turning around to look at his brother, "I got here by magic, okay. If you want to know more about it, go ask Dewey's friend . . . or the old guy." He turned back and said to the Durmstrang girl, "Yeah, ours is one of the oldest families in the States, but we're taught not to brag about it."

The girl smiled avariciously at Reese, then gave Malcolm a 'get lost' look.

Malcolm walked back to his table, and the conversation about Harry Potter died down. Everyone turned an expectant face to Malcolm, but he merely shrugged his shoulders. "I asked Reese, but he doesn't know. He did say to ask Peeves the Poltergeist, or Dumbledore."

"I didn't think he would know Dumbledore's name," EJ said sarcastically.

"He doesn't even know Peeves' name. His exact words were ' ask Dewey's friend or the old guy.' All he knows is he got here by magic."

"Malcolm," Neville asked, "I know you're a . . . special . . . person, but why does Dumbledore bring your brother to the school all the time?"

Malcolm sighed, "I have no idea, but I bet if I ask him he won't tell me."  
  
  
  



	13. The Really. Really Bad Day

A/N: Miriam said that she did not remember why Colin did not like Malcolm. If you remember from last year, at the sorting feast Malcolm offered Colin some homemade toffee, and didn't tell him it was made in the Weasley home. As to Camilla, the answer is in this chapter.

  
  
CHAPTER 14: THE REALLY, REALLY BAD DAY 

Malcolm woke up Sunday morning, and stumbled down the stairs.

"Nice jammies," Ginny said.

He walked back to his room, got dressed, and went back downstairs.

Malcolm trudged out of the common room and made his way to the Great Hall. He had spent a sleepless night of trying to figure out how Dewey got to the school, and failed. Sitting down to breakfast, he looked up to see an owl flying toward him, placing a letter next to his arm. Ron Weasley gave him a dirty look as his pulled his own letter out of the oatmeal. Malcolm opened his letter and read:

  
  


Dear Malcolm,

I hope the holidays have treated you well. I know you won't reply, and I do understand. I read about you in the Daily Prophet, and I have clipped the picture of you transforming into an owl. It is in a frame on my night table, and all of my friends are jealous of how cute you are. I've been making an effort, and I am happy to say that the Magic number is now at 103. (I did get it under 100, but Hallowe'en is here, and I owe myself).

Your Loving, Camilla

[I have lost my appetite.]

"Do you always have to be so stuck up," Ron demanded, "Always showing off, with your fancy robes and freak magic tricks. Who cares that you're an animagus. And your brains won't help you in the real world, you useless git." Ron got up and walked out of the Great Hall.

[That was unexpected. I won't wait to find out what the rest of the day is like. It's Sunday, and I'm going to disappear.]

  
  


*

  
  


Malcolm was napping in the owlery when Hermione and Harry walked in. Hermione gave Harry some parchment and a quill, and he began writing a letter. Then she walked around while waiting for him to finish and she spotted Malcolm. Casting a quick glance at Harry, she turned back and hissed quietly.

"Malcolm, what are you doing here? Go away. Don't let Harry see you." Then she added, "and don't say anything, either."

Malcolm, irritated, flew from his perch and into the rafters. He heard Harry say he was finished with his letter, then heard him tell Hedwig that he had to use a different owl. Malcolm became curious, but neither Harry nor Hermione said anything else. Suddenly, Hedwig landed on the rafter next to Malcolm, and he heard Harry say, "First Ron, then you. THIS ISN'T MY FAULT."

[That was strange.]

Hedwig came over to Malcolm and gave a motherly hoot. To relieve her anger, she then began preening Malcolm's feathers in a thorough and ungentle fashion. Despite Malcolm's best efforts to escape, she did not stop until she had cleaned every feather. Malcolm flew off the first chance he could.

[Do you know what just happened? I was just given the equivalent of a bath by an angry mother. It was not fun.]

  
  


*

  
  


"How is Malcolm?" Amber asked.

"He's upset about something," EJ said, "but he refuses to get out of bed until Monday morning. He said Sundays are too difficult for him."

"This isn't like him. Maybe we should tell Madam Pomfrey."

  
  


*

  
  


"I'm fine," Malcolm insisted.

"I'll be the judge of that," Madam Pomfrey said, "When two of your friends tell me that something is wrong with you, I tend to believe them. You are showing a lot of anxiety, Malcolm, and you haven't given me any good reason for it."

"It's just been a bad day," Malcolm said, "I just want it to end. I mean it isn't even lunch time yet."

"Calm down, Malcolm. You have no reason to be upset. If you like, I'll make a note on your report, and Dr. Spencer will discuss it with you."

"Wait a minute. I thought I got out of seeing that doctor."

"She told us she would see you if you had an episode like this," Dr. Pomfrey said, "We only want to help you learn how to relax. You are too nervous."

[It's a joke. I know it's a joke. It has to be a joke.]

"Madam. Pomfrey, I'm just having a really, really bad day."

"I understand, Malcolm," Madam. Pomfrey said as she handed him a small bottle, "I want you to take this . . . "

"Great," Malcolm said, took the bottle and drank the contents. "How long until this sleeping potion works?"

"That wasn't a sleeping potion," Madam Pomfrey said, angrily, "It only relaxes you. Malcolm, you were supposed to take a teaspoon a day, with a glass of milk " She counted slowly, to calm herself, then said, "you don't have to worry. You will enjoy the afternoon. I guarantee it." She gave him a large glass of milk and ordered him to drink. She then ordered him into a bed.

  
  


*

  
  


"How did this happen, Poppy?" Dumbledore asked.

"It was the Ravenclaw First-Years. A group of them were running though the school and two of them hit a trick step at the same time, and the others barreled into them. By the time I had patched the five of them back together, Malcolm was gone."

"Will he be dangerous to anyone?" Albus asked.

"Just the opposite," Madame Pomfrey said, "He will probably do anything anyone asks of him. He's very suggestible at this point."

  
  


*

  
  


"You are a truly wonderful person," Malcolm said, as he stroked Mrs. Norris.

"You surprised me, Malcolm," Argus Filch said as he handed the boy another scone. "I never thought you would feel that way."

"But you're right," Malcolm said, "The rules in this school are too lax. No one is willing to take charge. And the one person who is willing is shackled in his own chains."

"My own thoughts exactly," Filch said, "And I am glad that you understand. After the things you have done . . . "

". . .And they were terrible," Malcolm agreed, "If I was in charge, I would have thrown myself out without a second thought."

Argus Filch smiled at the thought that he had finally reached one boy, and taught him respect. In a happy mood, he answered the knock at the door, to find Albus Dumbledore standing there.

"Thank you, Argus. Someone told me they saw Malcolm with you. Malcolm, are you having a good time?"

"Oh, Yes Professor Dumbledore, Sir. Mr. Filch was telling me all of his wonderful plans for Hogwarts when he takes over."

"That's wonderful to hear, Malcolm. Would you like to have some FUN?"

"Yeah!"

"What would really be fun is if we went to see Madam Pomfrey in the infirmary." Albus said in an excited voice.

"That sounds Great," Malcolm agreed.

"You know what else we could do?" Albus said in the same voice, "We could lie down in one of the beds and remain quiet until MORNING!"

"Can we go now?" Malcolm asked, jumping out of his seat.

Dumbledore led the happy boy out of Filch's office, while Argus stared in utter disbelief. "I don't believe what happened. Do you, Mrs. Norris? Mrs. Norris?"

Anger flared in Argus Filch's eyes as he realized that Malcolm had taken the cat with him.

  
  


*

  
  


"How do you feel this morning?" Madame Pomfrey asked.

"Fine, I guess," Malcolm said, "Why is Mrs. Norris sleeping on my chest?"

"Because you spent most of yesterday telling her she was the best cat in the whole world."

"It was the potion?" Malcolm asked.

Madame Pomfrey nodded, saying, "You may not want to let Mrs. Norris know about that. You have a new friend."

Mrs. Norris opened one eye and saw Malcolm was awake. She moved closer to his face and began nuzzling his cheek. When Malcolm put his hand on her, she began purring.

"I have to get up," Malcolm said as he tried to pull the cat off him, but she had embedded her claws into his robe and would not be moved.

"Just take her with you," Madame Pomfrey said, "she'll get tired of hanging on, soon enough."

"Thanks," Malcolm said sullenly as he walked out of the infirmary.


	14. The Seminar

CHAPTER 15: THE SEMINAR 

The young wizard at the reception table glanced at the familiar looking boy and asked for his admission card. He was surprised at the boy's appearance. The Daily Prophet had shown a picture of the newest animagus, and he looked quite unassuming. The boy in front of him was completely different. The face was the same, but he had jeans and a denim jacket, instead of robes. In addition, the boy had greased back hair.

"First, I want to know if he's here," the boy said.

"And who would that be," The wizard asked in amusement.

The boy sneered in reply, "I'll give you a hint. Picture me as a dork. Is he here? I want to check him out."

"You are referring to Malcolm . . . "

"YEAH."

"He isn't able to attend," the wizard said, eyeing the boy carefully, "It is his weekend for charity work at the hospital."

"You," the boy said with a combination os scorn and surprise, "have got to be kidding. I came all the way here just to meet that jerk and he's doing a goody two-shoes act?"

"We do apologize," the wizard said mockingly, "As for you, either present an admissions card, or explain to two of our finest organizers what you are doing here."

The boy threw a card on the table. The wizard took the card and tapped it with his wand. The card glowed briefly, and the wizard looked surprised. He excused himself and pointed his wand at the boy and said "Finite Incantatum." The boy watched in amusement as the man tapped the card again.

"I ain't the brightest star in the sky," the boy said, "but don't you have to cast a spell before you cancel it? Are you done playing around yet?"

"Yes, Thank you," the wizard said, "Let me make your name tag. It is required of all students attending the seminar."

The boy scowled and said, "Sure. The name is Louis Renault. L-O-U-I-S R-E-N-A-U-L-T. Spell it correctly."

"I already spelt your first name with an E at the end. I'm sure it will be fine."

"The boy took the name tag and tore it up. "No, it ain't fine. Try again."

As he handed the boy the corrected name tag, the wizard said, "Please, mingle with the other students, Mister Renault, and I will mention your . . . concerns . . . to some friends. They might want to help you deal with it."

"Thanks, Mister," Louis said, "I 'preciate it."

"And Mister Renault. Welcome to London."

  
  


Louis entered the room and looked around at the sixty-odd students. Some gave him curious looks but Louis ignored them, and walked over to the refreshment table. An English girl, near fourteen, walked up to him, and asked, "Excuse me, is your name Malcolm, by any chance?"

"Sorry, Babe. Wrong guy," Louis said cheerfully. "I know you wanted to see him do his tricks, but if you stick with me I can show you a few tricks I bet he doesn't know."

As the girl slapped him, Louis laughed, and said, "I'll put you down as a maybe."

The girl stormed off, and a voice behind Louis said, "aren't you a bit young to be using a line like that."

Louis turned around to see a teenaged boy brushing his brown hair out of his eyes. "Hey, you're a home boy."

"Nicholas Drexler," the teenager said, "at least for today. And Yes, I am from the States as well."

"I'm Louis Renault," the boy said, pointing to his name tag.

"Pleased to meet you," Nicholas said, extending his hand, "I should tell you, Louis, you could have handled that differently. A few diplomatic words and she could have become a friend. Friends are very useful, if you understand what I mean."

"I ain't the diplomatic type," Louis said, "but I'll remember that. I'll even make a fool out of myself and apologize, if I get the chance."

"Good, you're a fast learner, Louis. Now let me introduce you to some of the leaders of tomorrow's world. If you play your cards right, you could be one of us."

Louis looked at Nicholas, then glanced at the wizard by the doorway, who smiled. He turned back to Nicholas and said, "I think we understand each other, Nick. Show me around."

  
  


As all the students were called to the auditorium, Louis found himself next to the British girl. He grabbed her hand and said, quickly, "Hey, I'm sorry. For what I said. I know it was rude, but I get, uh, teased a lot. They told me I shouldn't jump on you like that."

The British girl looked at the embarrassed boy and said, "I should apologize. They told me about you after, but even if you were who I thought, I should never have approached you the way I did . . . Louis."

"It's French, you pronounce it with an E."

"And my name is Amanda," the girl said with a laugh, then added, "Thank you, Louis, for your apology."

"Your welcome," Louis said, and looked around, "Can I ask a favor? I don't really know anybody here."

"Would you like to sit with me?" Amanda offered, and the two entered the auditorium.

  
  


"My name is Artemis Glenn," the speaker droned, "And I welcome all of you, the cream of today's youth, to this seminar. Today we will explore the latest developments in magic . . . "

"Do you see that man?" Amanda whispered.

"The guy with the cool hair?" Louis asked

Amanda looked at the boy next to her, with his hair slicked back, and said, "you would think that. He's Severus Snape. They claim he was one of the original Death Eaters. He's supposed to be an expert on poisons."

"Is that what he's going to talk about?"

"Obviously, but he'll give equal time to antidotes, just in case 'someone' asks questions. We still have to be careful, you know."

"Makes sense to me," Louis said, "Why poison someone when the cure is around."

"Louis, I like the way you think."

"Who's that next to him?"

"His name is MacNair. He works for the British Ministry, doing some of the less desirable tasks that are sometimes necessary. He's supposed to tell us what we can expect if we get involved in government."

"Sounds like a sleeper to me," Louis said, "you know, catch forty winks and wake me up when it's over. Or am I wrong?"

"I hope you are," Amanda told him, "I would love to be a part of the Ministry. But see the lady? That's Frau Blucher. She teaches Defense Against the Dark Arts at Durmstrang. She is definitely not a 'sleeper.' I heard she plans to demonstrate some of the Dark Arts, to show what we will be fighting 'against.'"

"Actually, Karkaroff teaches that course," Malcolm Baddock said from behind Louis. "Blucher is only teaching until he returns from the Tri-Wizard Tournament at Hogwarts."

"And you are?" Amanda asked.

Malcolm introduced himself, and explained that he was familiar with That Gryffindor. "I was curious as to how close the resemblance was. You could pass at a distance, but only if you kept your mouth closed."

"Thanks," Louis said with a scowl, "but what's this triple wizard thing?"

  
  


As they walked out, Amanda said, "You were right, Louis, that MacNair was a sleeper. I have to be grateful that he only talked for fifteen minutes."

"I found Snape's lecture to be very interesting," Baddock said, "Did you notice anything unusual when he described the poison potions?"

Louis and Amanda shook their heads, and Baddock explained. "In every potion, the deadly ingredients were listed at a non-lethal dose. His constricting potion would have only caused mild constipation, if that."

"Smart Move," Louis said, "It's what my old man would do. I bet half the kids here try to poison somebody tomorrow."

Amanda laughed, "I know I'm with the smart crowd. Both of you realized it was a test."

"Obviously," Baddock said.

"Well, I didn't catch it until Malcolm said something," Louis explained, "I'm not the type to poison anyone."

Two boys, sixteen, walked up, and one of them said, "I've heard that you are not the person you appear to be?"

Louis looked up, and Amanda noticed how he seemed to shrink in front of the larger boy. She didn't perceive the image of a frightened boy, however. It was closer to a panther getting ready to pounce.

The boy said a few more remarks and pulled out his wand, "Why don't you show us what you learned. Go ahead, pull out your wand."

"I don't have a wand," Louis said.

The boy laughed and turned to his friend. Louis jumped and kicked, hitting the boy in a very sensitive spot. As the boy crumbled, Louis grabbed his wand, pointed it at the other boy, and said, "I've got one now. What kind of spell would you like to see?"

"Expeliremus," Severus Snape shouted, and the wand flew twenty feet away. "Mister Baddock," Snape sneered, "What is the meaning of this?"

"It was the two boys," Baddock explained, "They were harassing Louis, and Louis defended himself."

"And You didn't do anything?"

"I didn't have the chance," Baddock admitted.

"That is true, Sir," Amanda added, "Louis was protecting himself."

"And you," Snape said, staring at the greasy haired boy, "What do you have to say."

"Nothing," Louis answered, "I got me two unbiased witnesses."

"My word," Snape said, "You understand multiple syllables. I am amazed. I suggest you leave, now, before someone decides you need another lesson. They may not give you a warning, next time."

"I was just leaving, anyway" Louis said, and walked off without saying goodbye to anyone.

*

"Did you have a good weekend, Malcolm," Ginny asked, as they walked to Potions class.

"Well Saturday was wasted," Malcolm said, "some magazine was doing a thing on hospital volunteers. I ended up standing around most of the day. Sunday was great, though. Those kids are a blast."

"I will assume being a blast is a good thing," Ginny said, "I would like to come and watch you. I'll ask my mum if I can join you on your next trip."

"Sure," Malcolm said, "but that will be the weekend before Christmas break."

The two sat through class, and at the end Malcolm was told to stay after. When the rest of the third-year potions class left, Snape closed and locked the door.

"Malcolm, what did you think you were doing."

"I don't understand?"

"Does the phrase, 'I'll put you down as a maybe,' ring any bells?"

"No Sir."

"Then explain the grease stain on your robe, Malcolm," Snape said. "Perhaps that will get you to drop this charade."

"There aren't any grease stains on my robe," Malcolm said.

"Then why did you check, Louis?"

"It's just a natural reaction," Malcolm answered.

[Uh-Oh. He called me Louis. And I answered.]

"It was Mr. Osgoode, Professor," Malcolm said quickly, "He said it would be better if I would use an alias, but then I got my picture in the paper, and all that. So I asked Francis, and he suggested that I dress differently, and just have a different attitude. So I dressed like Francis's friend, Greaser, and I acted like Reese."

"You've made me sad," Severus said, "I thought you wore your hair that way because you were inspired by me."

"Actually, I did, Sir," Malcolm lied quickly.

"Who knows what you did?" Snape demanded, then felt he had to add, "Besides you and I."

"Mr. Osgoode, he told me it was worth a try. And Professor Dumbledore, he arranged the portkey to take me from London to the hospital."

"Does anyone at the hospital know?"

"No, I told them I was hiding from the photographers, that I was tired of having my picture taken."

"Then, congratulations, Malcolm. You are now two different people. Between my remarks, and Osgoode's comments after you left, the rumor about your twin is being spread around. You will tell no one about this, Malcolm. This is too important."

"I don't understand," Malcolm said.

"Neither do I," Snape admitted, "but things are being stirred up in the world. It may be that Louis Renault might save your life some day."

Malcolm shook his head. "Why would my life be in danger?"

"You would be surprised at the reasons I could list," Snape said, "but there are people who are offended that you are a muggle-born wizard. The fact that you are in the papers is enough of an incentive."

"Am I in that much danger?" Malcolm asked.

"Not yet," Snape said, "and if Dumbledore has his way, perhaps never. We can only hope that any plans we make are not needed."

"What about Malcolm Baddock?" Malcolm asked.

"He is already making plans," Snape said, "I think he would love to use one of my potions on you, and have Louis take your place."

  
  



	15. The First Task

CHAPTER 16: THE FIRST TASK 

"Quiet," Francis said, "I want to be able to hear it when it happens."

"What did you do?" Stan whispered, "and should I start making my excuses now?"

"This is brilliant," Francis said, "I had Malcolm figure out how much gunpowder I needed, but all the rest of it was my idea. You know the trophy case that Spangler is so proud of? I drilled a hole in the base, and filled it with the gunpowder. The beautiful part is that I took the frayed end of an extension cord as my fuse and plugged the other end into the outlet that's linked to the light switch in his office."

"Francis, there are no outlets that are linked to that light switch."

"Yes there is, ever since I got into the electrical panel and switched a few wires around."

Stan nodded, then asked, "Does this blow up the trophy case?"

"No, it's too heavy for that. I figure it'll blow out the base and the thing will fall over. I used some extra gunpowder just in case. Malcolm said three ounces would be plenty but . . . "

"How much did you use?"

"Two pounds," Francis said, casually, "That wood base is pretty thick."

"Francis, you idiot. That base has a solid steel inlay. If it breaks apart, you'll send shrapnel everywhere." Having said that, Stan proceeded to lie on the floor. After a moment of hesitation, Francis joined him.

Suddenly, an explosion was heard, followed by a loud crash and the sound of something going through a wall.

*

"I am curious, Commandant," one of the gentlemen asked, "you are an expert at utilizing space, but why is this one area empty."

"Forgive me for my sentimentality," Spangler said, "but this was the spot of the original trophy case. The new case was too large to be brought up to this floor, and I leave this space free, in case a way is found to move it. Even now, some of my star cadets are working on the problem. Until then, the trophy case sits just below here."

As though waiting for that moment, the light was turned on in the Commandant's office. The empty floor where Spangler had been pointing shattered from a heavy blow. The trophy case shot through the flooring until the large base jammed itself between two steel support girders.

"My compliments to your cadets," the gentleman said, as the dust settled.

*

"Malcolm," Ron called out, "How are you this morning?"

"Fine," Malcolm said, "Are you and Harry still fighting?"

"Of course not."

"Do you talk to each other?"

"Why should we?"

Malcolm shook his head. "Ron, I appreciate the fact that you're being nice to me, but it is getting annoying. You know Harry didn't do anything wrong. I told you that. Hermione told you that. Even Dennis Creevey told you that."

"Only because you told him to."

"That's beside the point," Malcolm said, "The point is, you're wrong to be jealous of him. You're the lucky one. You don't have reporters writing lies about you, just to sell their papers."

"Like that story about you being born with two heads."

[He would remember that one.]

"Yeah, like that one."

"Well," Ron said, "I'll think about it. What are you planning on doing today?"

"I was going to meet Hagrid for my Care of Magical Creatures class. Do you want to join us?"

*

Everyone was excited. The first task of the Tournament was taking place today. The stands were packed early and Malcolm was glad of his animagus abilities. He could fly over the crowds, and save some good seats. Hedwig helped.

"I owe you one," Ron admitted. "I could never have gotten a front row seat on my own."

"Ron, I know you're still upset about Harry," Malcolm said, "But just go up to him and apologize. After everything the two of you have been through together, this is simply stupid."

"That's exactly what Hermione told me," Ron said, sadly.

"That's because Hermione told him to," Dewey said from behind Malcolm.

"Dewey, what are you doing here?" Malcolm whispered. "Why aren't you in that really good seat I saved for you, all the way at the top of the stands?"

"I gave it to some weird guy named Dobby," Dewey whispered back. "He was even shorter than me."

"We'll try and make room," Malcolm said testily.

"You can stand in front of me," Ron offered. "I'm tall enough for it not to be a problem."

"Thanks," Dewey said, then asked, "Why are you being nice to me?"

"Because you're Malcolm's little brother," Ron said, jokingly. "We little brothers have to stick together."

"I have three older brothers," Dewey said.

"I have five," Ron bragged.

"Did you ever have to wear hand-me-downs? The reason I have this shirt is 'cause Reese got sick on it and Malcolm didn't want it."

"Do you see these robes? The way my hands stick out? I'm the sixth Weasley to wear these robes. I don't even have a choice in the matter. You should see my dress robes. A hundred years old, from the used bin."

"Did your brothers ever ditch you?"

"All the time. My Mum would tell them to take me along, then they'd dump me in some shop or alley way. And then they'd blame me for running off."

"And mom always believes them. And we're the ones who get punished. Then they steal our toys."

"And tell our mum we don't know how to take care of things. They even turned my teddy bear into a giant spider, while I was holding it."

"They took my teddy bear and set him on fire, then blamed your sister."

"And had her thrown into jail. You git, Malcolm, how could you?"

[It happened again. Dewey talks to someone and they end up blaming me for anything.]

"Ron, are you . . ." Fred began to ask.

"No," Dewey yelled, "He doesn't have any more toys for you to destroy."

Ron and Dewey high-fived each other as everyone around them made it a point to leave them alone.

  
  


"They're starting," Ginny said, as the wizards led a red dragon into the middle of the field, where it responded instantly to the nest of eggs. "That's a Chinese Fireball," she told everyone, especially Dewey, who went wide-eyed at the sight of his first dragon.

The announcer called out the name, Viktor Krum, and the Bulgarian student exited the tent. He slowly paced the dragon which watched him intently. He pulled out his wand, and cast a spell, which seemed to have no effect. He stood still, marshaling his strength, then tried again, casting as strong a hex as possible.

The hex hit the dragon squarely between the eyes. The Fireball was stunned at first, and Viktor slowly approached. Then the dragon let out a howl, and began stomping around in rage and pain. A loud groan was heard from the crowd as the dragon smashed several of its own eggs. Finally, it stumbled far enough away for Viktor to run in and grab the golden egg.

As the crowd applauded, dragon handlers ran onto the field and subdued the red dragon, removing it with some difficulty. "That was scary," Dewey said with energy, "That was much better than the movies."

  
  


Fleur Delecour exited the tent, and faced the Welsh Green. She was prepared, and immediately drew her wand, casting a sleeping charm. It worked with annoying slowness, and the more annoying sound of one boy yelling, "Wake up, Wake up, It's a trick."

"You're not supposed to root for the dragon, Dewey," Malcolm said.

"But it's not fair," Dewey said as he watched the girl walk up to the nest.

They watched the rather boring proceedings, until the dragon snored and released a blast of fire, which ignited the girl's skirt. Fleur quickly cast a spell and water flowed from her wand, dousing the fire. With more embarrassment than injury, she gathered the egg and left the field.

  
  


The Green Welsh was removed easily, and a Swedish Short-Snout was set in its place. Cedric Diggory came onto the field, and slowly approached the dragon. He pointed his wand at the dragon and cast a stunning spell. As he neared the nest, however, the dragon shook of the spell, and Cedric was forced to make a hasty retreat.

Cedric looked around, and then pointed his wand, not at the dragon, but at a rock. The rock was transfigured into a Labrador Retriever, which began barking at the dragon. Confused by this second target, the dragon hesitated. Since Cedric was only standing there, the dragon decided to go after the dog. As it set out to chase the dog, Cedric ran for the nest and scooped up the golden egg. He started to run but the dragon had realized it was a trick and turned back, catching Cedric with a blast of fire that forced him to hurry painfully from the field.

Dewey cheered enthusiastically, but no one knew if it was for Cedric getting away or for the dragon almost getting him.

  
  


For the Gryffindors, this was the key moment. The Hungarian Horntail was brought onto the field, then Harry's name was called. He walked out of the tent, and cast a spell at once.

"What is he doing?" Malcolm asked.

"He's standing there," Ginny said.

Malcolm looked over at Ginny, who gave him a broad grin.

[I'd ask why, but she doesn't know either.]

"Look at that," Dewey called out, "He called his broom."

Everyone applauded as Harry mounted the broom, and flew into the air. They oohed and aahed as the dragon breathed fire at him. When the Horntail barely missed Harry with its tail, the entire crowd gasped with relief, except for Dewey who yelled out, "GO FOR IT."

With a quick maneuver, Harry coaxed the dragon to take flight, then swooped down and grabbed the egg. The first task was complete.

"Harry could have been hurt badly," Ron said, to no one in particular.

"You should talk to him," Dewey said, "friends are important. I plan on having one, some day."

"Thanks, Dewey, I will," Ron said, and left quickly.

"I've got to go," Dewey said, "I'm being punished and I'm not allowed out of the house."

"Okay, Dewey," Malcolm said, "and tell Mom and Dad I love them."

[I really hope he does tell them.]

*

Malcolm sat in the library trying to relax. He would join the party shortly, but he needed some time to think. He had watched Dewey as he left the field. Dewey met up with Peeves as they neared the castle, and then they disappeared behind a tree. Malcolm watched until Ginny and EJ both shook him, but neither Dewey nor Peeves had reappeared. Then his thoughts were disturbed.

"Excuse me," a heavily accented voice said. Viktor Krum was standing there. "I tell them I must valk off my energy," Viktor said, "I noticed you here. You are friend of the girl with bushy hair. She comes here."

Malcolm thought for a minute, then understood that here was the library itself. "You must mean Hermione."

"Herm-own-ninny," Viktor said, "a lovely name."

"I know what you're thinking," Malcolm said, grinning, "but you might as well forget it. She doesn't like dumb jocks. They're all right as friends, BUT."

"Vhat is 'dumb jock?"

"Sorry, it's an American slang. A jock is a guy who is into sports. Since most jocks don't bother studying, they are often called dumb."

"Ahh," Viktor said, "and Herm-own-ninny does not like 'dumb jocks'."

"Well," Malcolm said, "She likes Harry Potter, but as a friend."

"But Harry is not 'dumb'."

"No, but he doesn't spend as much time on his school work as he should. You could say he gets an Honorable Mention. If you want to impress Herm-own-ninny . . ."

[Now he's got me doing it.]

" . . . you have to show her you have a brain, and that you use it."

"I thank you, . . . ?"

"Malcolm."

"Malcolm. And I am Viktor. Now, I regret, I must go to party and listen to everyone tell me Vhat a great person I am."

"I should go too," Malcolm said, "I have to tell someone what a great person he is."

[That would be something. Hermione Granger and Viktor Krum. I couldn't think of a more unlikely couple. I'll have to tell Draco and Ginny about this.]


	16. The Christmas Visit

CHAPTER 17: THE CHRISTMAS VISIT 

"Hello, Love," Draco said, as Ginny boarded the train.

"Hello to you," Ginny said as she sat across from him and Malcolm. "Are you going to the Yule Ball?"

"Of Course," Draco said, "I'm taking Pansy Parkinson. She may have an attitude, but she is an excellent dancer. I take it Neville finally asked you to go."

Ginny blushed lightly, and said, "He did, and he warned me that he had two left feet. I've already found a spell to keep my toes from getting crushed."

"I'm sure Neville will be fine," Draco said.

"Draco Malfoy," Ginny said, "You've complemented a Gryffindor."

"Only because he isn't here," Draco said with a smile. "Malcolm, do you have holiday plans?"

"I'm going home," Malcolm said, "I can only wonder what will happen this year."

"Any victims coming over?"

"No, but Dennis Creevey asked if I wanted to come over to his house, and Colin Creevey asked me to say no."

*

The two students sat in the hospital room as Basil played with his blocks, with the help of an annoying owl. He was the same as he had been the last time, and the time before.

"You like him, don't you," Draco said, "Neville, I mean."

"Yes," Ginny said, hesitantly, "but I like you, too."

"No, you don't. I'm the forbidden fruit. That is why you like me. You know I'm only being nice because of Basil. If it weren't for him, I doubt I would ever say a kind word to you."

"Did you ever think that Basil is the excuse you use? It would have taken less effort to tell me to leave, instead of hiding the fact that we are nice to each other, sometimes."

"Nice try, Ginny. I only had a chance to know you because of those two on the floor, but in the real world, we could never be friends. You and I know that our lives are too far apart for either of us to be accepted. The only common ground we have is a shared secret."

Basil began to shake slightly, and the nurse came up to him. "He's tired again. I'm sorry but you will have to leave." She picked up the frail nine-year-old boy, and placed him in the bed, tucking him in.

"Excuse me," Ginny said, and walked to the bed and leaned over to whisper something into Basil's ear. Basil nodded and murmured, "Bye, Love," as he fell asleep.

"What did you say to him?" Draco asked as they left the room.

"It's a secret," Ginny said, mischievously, "If you want to know, ask your brother."

"It never pays to be nice to a Weasley," Draco muttered.

"We're going this way, " Malcolm said, "if either of you are interested."

"I can't handle children today," Draco said.

"There are more than children, here," Nurse Hull said to the trio. "We also have several elderly residents, and other long-term patients who would always appreciate someone to talk to."

"Draco," Malcolm offered, "Dr. Spencer is free, in case I want to come by. If you talk to her, then she won't bother ME for another month."

"Do you mind?" Draco asked the nurse, "I can talk about Malcolm all day, but I can't handle any personal questions right now."

As Draco left them, Ginny told Malcolm, "That was quick thinking, Malcolm. How did you know she would be free."

"She told me," Malcolm said, "She's given up on helping me, but it gives her a break in her day when she has to work weekends."

"Let's go, then," Nurse Hull said, "We'll be visiting an older group of children today, nine through eleven. I hope you can handle it."

"I'm getting good at it," Malcolm said, "all I have to do is ruffle my feathers, for the younger kids. Let's see, nine through eleven, almost ready for school. We'll see how they react, and show them some of the things they can expect at school."

"And, if we have the chance," Ginny said, laughing, "I'LL be the one to show them how to ride a broom."

*

"It's dark in here," Malcolm said, as he walked into the hospital ward. A dozen boys and girls watched him in interest.

Ginny walked in, casting a variant of the Lumos spell, and a bright blue light shone from her wand. Malcolm pulled out his wand and caused a yellow light to appear. The result was that everyone in the room had a sickly green hue. Ginny changed her light to red, making everyone appear pumpkin colored. Malcolm shifted his light to white, giving everyone a healthy pink.

After a few more simple spells (causing one girl's pigtails to float and dance, changing a boy's hair to a horrid shade of purple) they introduced themselves.

The request came almost immediately, and Malcolm became an owl, flying from one bed or chair to another. Ginny gave the patients a quick example of all the spells they would learn during their first year, brightening the eyes of those who were nine and ten, but bringing frowns to the two patients that were eleven, by reminding them of what they were missing.

"Then you'll have to learn," Ginny said, and made both of them practice a couple of the spells. "No, the feather is supposed to float," she said to the girl holding her wand, "now you have it stuck in the ceiling."

Malcolm flew up and pulled the feather free, prompting cheers from everyone, including the passers by who had stopped to watch.

When the time came to leave, everyone was sad, including the two Gryffindors.

"You were wonderful," Nurse Hull said as she escorted them from the hospital.

"We didn't do anything a first year couldn't do," Ginny said.

"I'm not talking about what you did," the nurse said, "I'm talking about the fact that you did it. Most of those children have spent the last month doing nothing but lying in bed. That is why I'm thanking you."

*

"That was a lot of fun," Ginny said as they left, "I never knew how boring a hospital could be."

"Yeah, I can't go to Hogsmeade, so doing this gets me away from the school for a while. I always feel better when I get back."

"Of course, Malcolm. Why did I ever think helping someone else had something to do with it?" Ginny said with a laugh.

"There's Draco," Malcolm pointed out.

"He looks different," Ginny said, as she looked at the Slytherin slumped over on the bench. "It's Basil, isn't it?"

"You saw him," Malcolm said sadly, "He's not getting any better. I was hoping that talking to Dr. Spencer would help."

"She didn't help you," Ginny said.

"Well, I didn't want any help," Malcolm said tonelessly.

"And Draco does?"

"Yes, he does. Why do you think he agreed to talk to her?"

Their appearance was a tonic for Draco, and he was his normal self by the time they returned to Hogwarts.

*

"Merry Christmas, Malcolm," Ginny said as he walked through the common room. "I've got a present for you." She handed him a small package, "They're from Fred and George. They wanted to thank you for testing their Canary Creams last year."

"What is it?" Malcolm asked.

"I'm not sure," Ginny said, laughing, "have Reese test them."

"Thanks. Have a great time at the Yule Ball."

Malcolm walked out of the common room and headed out toward the main doors. After a couple of turns, he ran into Draco Malfoy.

"I've got something for you," Draco said with a grin, and handed him a small envelope. "Go ahead, open it."

Malcolm opened the envelope and pulled out a picture. It showed Basil sitting on the floor, trying to pull one of his blocks out of an owl's claws. "I never even saw you take this," Malcolm said, "This is great."

"I had the nurse take the picture," Draco said, smiling, "It proves you can irritate anyone."

"Thanks," Malcolm said, "would you like some candy?"

Draco laughed out loud and walked away, saying, "I may trust you, Malcolm, but I don't trust the Weasleys."

As Malcolm put the picture away, Dennis Creevey walked up. "What was that about?" he asked.

"It's a private joke, " Malcolm said, "would you like a piece of candy?"

"Colin warned me never to take anything edible from you," Dennis said, "What are they?"

"I don't know yet."

"I'll take a couple when you find out."

As they walked to the coaches, Malcolm asked, "Won't Colin be upset if I join the two of you for the trip to London."

"Not really," Dennis said, "He decided to stay. He's going to take pictures of the couples. Dumbledore worked it out so he won't have to pay for the supplies, and Colin says it will give him a chance to perfect his portrait photography." Dennis looked up and said, "You can still come over for the holidays if you want."

"I'd like to," Malcolm said, "but this is the only chance I'll get to be with my family, until the summer."

[I know. Why would I want to spend time with MY family?]

"Good luck, then," Dennis said, smiling.

"Yeah, I'll need it."

*

"You could have stayed for the holidays," David Winter said, as Malcolm got off the train, "there are a great many things happening there that I am sure would interest you."

"Nice try," Malcolm said, "but I'm still going home. Would you like some candy?"

"Like I would trust you," David said, "Did you really expect me to say yes?"

"There's nothing wrong with them," Malcolm said, grinning like a Cheshire Cat.

"Oh, really," David Winter said, politely. "Then why don't you have one first? Yes, that's a wonderful idea, Malcolm. Show me how much you enjoy your candy, and THEN we will take you home. Unless you did want to stay at school, after all."

[That was mean. He's doing this deliberately, just because of all those problems he's had with me.]

Carefully, Malcolm reached into the package that Ginny had handed him, and pulled out a piece of chocolate covered something. He put it in his mouth and began chewing.

[This tastes good. It's like cherry flavored chocolate.]

"Did you swallow?" David asked.

"Yeah, it tasted great," Malcolm said, "It was like a chocolate covered cherry except it was all hard chocolate."

"Try another one."

"Okay," Malcolm said, and reached into the package for another piece. When he was done, he said, excitedly, "that one was peach. Fred and George made fruit flavored chocolates."

"What's the trick?" David insisted on asking.

"I don't think there is one," Malcolm said, grabbing a third piece, "and for those two, that is a pretty good trick."

"That one was Pineapple," David said, "I love Pineapple."

*

"Merry . . . Christmas . . . Malcolm," Stevie said.

"Thanks for the comics," Malcolm said, "I've got a great present for you, but you've got to be careful."

Malcolm pulled out his wand and waved it in the air. A loud pop was heard as David Winter appeared and pulled the wand out of Malcolm's hand.

"My timing is impeccable," David Winter said. "Malcolm, you do understand that our general rule of no use of magic during vacations applies to you, as well as to everyone else. Why don't you try following the rules for once?"

"I can explain," Malcolm said, quickly.

"I doubt that," Mr. Winter said, "You have a perfect memory, Malcolm. That disqualifies you from using the 'I forgot,' excuse. If you were Reese you could use that excuse forever, but you aren't. Now, what were you trying to do?"

"Well, you know Stevie," Malcolm said.

"Hi . . . " said Stevie.

"Hi," David Winter said.

"I wanted to give him his Christmas present," Malcolm said. "I learned this spell to animate objects and I was going to cast it on Stevie's wheelchair. This way it could levitate and he can get up stairs, and use the top shelves of his bookcases, things like that."

"Even though it is illegal," David said.

"Is it?" Malcolm asked, innocently.

David looked at Malcolm, then looked at Stevie, sitting brokenhearted in his wheelchair.

"Fine," he told Malcolm, and turned his head to wipe away a tear. Meanwhile the two boys did a high five, and were standing there, and sitting there, looking completely innocent when David turned back.

"Did you know I could see the two of you in the mirror when I had my back turned?" David asked.

"Look, Mr. Winter," Malcolm said, "It's something that would really help Stevie out. That's why I want to do it. What good is magic if you can't help people."

"All right," David said, "but you had better be an angel for the rest of the time you are home, or the spell comes off. Understand. NO MAGIC."

David Winter cast the spell on the wheelchair, and a familiar looking man apparated into the room. 

[I remember this guy. He's the review officer that tried to yell at my mom. I wondered what had happened to him. ]

"Okay Malcolm, I finally caught you," the former review officer said. "Where's your wand?"

Malcolm pointed behind him at David Winter, who was holding two wands, and smiling. David said, "Did you know it is illegal to monitor the user of a wand, you can only monitor the use of a wand."

The man raised his hand and pointed at David, then changed his mind and shut up.

"Excellent Idea," David Winter said, "Look, I know you're a jerk. You tried to bully students when you reviewed use of magic violations. And I know that this boy's mother fixed your wagon. However, now you are targeting Malcolm, and that is not allowed."

David gave his nicest smile, and added, "Here's the deal. If you go back to your office and file for an early retirement, then I will not get involved in a great deal of paperwork."

"Expletive Deleted," the officer said.

"I assume that is a yes," David Winter said, "considering your other option is to be fired."

"Yes," the former officer agreed, with bitterness, and disappeared.

[I love the government at work.]

"What . . . will happen . . . to him," Stevie asked.

"Hopefully, he'll retire and find some useful outlet for his anger," David said, "We'll keep an eye on him for a while . . . In case there is any trouble."

"Thanks, Mr. Winter," Malcolm said, "It was pretty good deal you offered him, though."

"I had to," David Winter said, "There are good people and bad people everywhere. And you will not believe this, but he was one of the good people, once. I had to leave him with at least a cloak of decency."

"What happened to him?" Malcolm asked, "He wasn't very good when I met him."

"And you would be the expert on that," David said, "There were changes in his life, that he couldn't handle. Let's leave it at that." Then he added, forcefully, "Malcolm, Stevie, NEVER mention this to anyone. My bosses expected him to do something like this so they could fire him, and make an example out of him. If they find out what I did, then I will become the example. Do you understand?"

Both boys nodded, and David told them, "It's like you said, Malcolm, what good is magic if you can't help people. And thank you for those chocolates. My wife loved them."

"He took my wand," Malcolm said, after David apparated.

"That . . . is a good . . . thing," Stevie said.

"So, do you want to check out my roof?" Malcolm asked, "It's a pretty good view from up there."

"Sure," Stevie said, "I'll . . . meet you . . . outside . . . your window."

  
  



	17. The Eighteenth Chapter

CHAPTER 18: THE EIGHTEENTH CHAPTER 

"Malcolm, I have a surprise for you," Lois said, as he stumbled into the kitchen. "Mrs. Malfoy sent us an invitation to their New Year's Eve Party. "

"But Draco stayed at school," Malcolm said. "Why did they invite me?"

"They're inviting friends and their families," Lois told him, "They missed having Draco home, and decided to throw a party."

"A party?"

"Yes." Lois said, "And your job is to keep an eye on Dewey."

"NO," Dewey yelled, "I'm not going. I don't want to wear a dress again."

"You're going, Dewey," Lois told him, "and you don't have to wear a dress if you don't want to."

"Mom," Malcolm said, "You do know what their friends are like. Do you really want to go?"

"Of course I do," Lois told him, "And I know we're only being invited because of you. But I want to see what these people are like, first hand."

"What about Dad?"

"He'll do what I tell him."

*

"Is everyone ready?" Lois demanded.

"I'm ready," Malcolm said, adjusting his dress robes.

"Me, too," said Reese, coming out of the bedroom wearing his own set of robes

"Where did you get those robes?" Malcolm asked.

"Steve Longbottom," Reese said, "This way, I can fit in easier, when I go to the games."

[That's right, Steven is Neville's cousin, and it turns out he lives in our neighborhood. On top of that, he actually thinks that Reese is intelligent. All I know about him is that Neville is glad he lives in America.]

"Do I have to go?" Dewey asked, "I hate these robes."

"Then take them off," Reese said sarcastically, adding, "Oh, that's right, you're not wearing any pants underneath."

"You could have let me put on some underwear, at least," Dewey said angrily.

"I warned you not to try taking those robes off," Lois said. "Now, if you are done talking, we're going to the party. And hurry up, I don't want to get there after midnight."

"See, Dewey, you're causing trouble already," Reese said.

*

The butler escorted the family from the foyer to the Main Hall, where they were greeted by the Malfoys.

"We're so glad you could make it," Narcissa said politely, "We are happy to finally meet Malcolm's parents."

"Draco wasn't lying when he said how you lived," Hal said, "it must cost a fortune to keep this place up."

"It does," Lucius Malfoy answered dryly, "but we manage."

"And there he is," Narcissa said joyfully to Dewey, "Welcome back to our home, my little gentleman."

"I couldn't wait to get here," Dewey said happily.

"Don't you believe it," Lois said, "I practically had to throw him into the fireplace."

"Mooom," Dewey complained.

"Please, mingle with the guests," Narcissa said, "the buffet is at the far end, and the waiters will get you anything to drink. If you don't mind, I'm going to steal little Dewey from you. We have a special area for the children."

"I like this party already," Reese said.

*

Malcolm looked around as his family dispersed. 

[Great. All of these people, and I don't know anyone.]

"Malcolm. How dare you, I mean, How are you?" Malcolm Baddock said.

[Correction. All of these people and I don't like anyone.]

"Hey, Malcolm," Malcolm said, "Look, I'm sorry I won the Quidditch Match and you lost the bet."

"It isn't that," Baddock said, "How dare you bring your brother here."

"It was a family invitation. I had no choice."

"Then where did he get those robes?"

"They're from a friend of his, for when they go to Quidditch games," Malcolm explained.

Malcolm Baddock looked at Malcolm in surprise. "He has friends who are wizards."

"Wizards can be jerks too," Malcolm said pointedly, "or haven't you noticed."

"I admit I went overboard during the Quidditch Match," Baddock said, sadly. "But it was such a wonderful plan. I should have known it was too good to be true."

"Draco warned you," Malcolm said, "hey, watch this, Reese is going to try and talk to those girls."

"What are you going to do?" Baddock asked curiously.

"Nothing," Malcolm said, "I trust Reese. If he's lucky, he'll last about fifteen minutes."

"PETRIFICUS TOTALUS," one of the teenage girls shouted.

"So much for luck," Baddock said.

*

Dewey sat in the chair holding a glass of punch, doing his best to look totally miserable. On one side of him were two brothers trying to decide who to throw cake at. He moved out of range and sat next to a girl his age who was arguing with her older sister.

"But these robes itch. You know that new robes always make me itch."

"That's too bad, Violet. If you had been a little nicer to mother, you would have had something else to wear. Now you have to suffer."

The older girl walked back to her friends, who were using Reese as a cup holder. Violet gave a whimper and squirmed in her seat.

"These robed are itchy," she yelled after her sister.

"My robes itch, too," Dewey said softly.

The girl looked over, and smiled. "They do?" she asked happily

"Yeah," Dewey said, returning the smile "I wish I could get out of here and take them off."

"I bet we could find a place," Violet said.

"This house is big enough," Dewey agreed.

They grabbed each other by the hand and ran off.

*

"Malcolm, are you enjoying yourself," Lucius Malfoy asked.

"A little," Malcolm said, "I'm sorry about Reese."

Lucius looked to where Reese had been placed in the corner, and said, "He is a useful coatrack. But don't worry, you can take the spell off when it's time to go."

"Uhm, no I can't," Malcolm said, "I don't have my wand."

"Then we'll send him home with you and you can change him back when you get there."

"My wand isn't at home, either."

"Don't tell me you left it at school," Lucius said, mockingly. "I would have expected better from you."

"No. Sir," Malcolm answered, "It was confiscated."

"Why."

"General Principles, Sir."

Lucius stared at Malcolm for a minute, then said, "I believe you, Malcolm. I don't blame them, either." He looked around the crowd and then asked, "Where is your little brother? Narcissa has taken a liking to him, I don't know why, and wants to introduce him to some of her friends."

"He's over there by those kids throwing cake around."

"No, he isn't."

"Maybe he went to the bathroom?"

"I'll check," Lucius said with annoyance, and left.

[Great. Reese is a statue. Dewey might be lost. And the only people I know are the ones who don't like me.]

"Do you think they'll find him?" Baddock asked.

"I hope not. Then I'll have to deal with him again."

Baddock snorted at that, saying, "Malcolm, you are amazing. How can you say that about your own brother?"

"Force of habit," Malcolm said.

*

"First of all," Francis said, "if we're talking family, I assure you I could spout a fairly decent pedigree, but that isn't everything."

"Isn't it?" One young lady asked.

"Of course not," Francis explained, "if it were, I would be the most popular guy here. Skill is also important. And that is the reason I'm here. Not because I have any skill in magic, but because my brother does. All I have is potential."

"He's right about skill," someone said, "I have a cousin who is almost a squib, and despite his breeding, he is rarely invited anywhere. He has friends, but . . . "

The young lady asked, "What do you mean, that you have potential."

"We're talking about family," Francis said, "If I have children, depending on the mother, they will be able to perform magic. Chances are they will also have a higher degree of intelligence as well. I'm not at my brother's level, but I'm not that far behind either."

"If the rumors about your family are true," the young lady said, moving closer to Francis, "you could be quite a catch."

"I am exploring the possibilities," Francis said, "but I can't commit to anything until I'm sure."

"I hate commitment," the young lady said.

*

"So, you're the animagus," Amanda said, "we missed you at the seminar."

"I wanted to go," Malcolm said, "but I had my charity work at the hospital."

"Isn't that precious," Amanda said, "My father says that charity work is for the 'lesser classes'."

"Then your father is a jerk," Malcolm said.

"How dare you," Amanda sneered. "My family could buy and sell you fifty times over."

"Try it," Malcolm sneered back, "You don't have enough money to by me."

"MALCOLM," Lois said, "apologize to that girl, right now."

"But Mom," Malcolm whined.

"Don't but mom me, little mister. You are a guest here. You don't tell someone that her father is a jerk, regardless of how true it is."

Malcolm turned to Amanda and said, "I'm sorry I said your father was a jerk."

"Do you really expect me to accept that apology?" Amanda laughed.

"Yes he does," Lois said in a voice that would freeze the air.

"Apology accepted," Amanda said, as she began to shiver. After Lois left, she added, "That was scary."

"You're lucky my mom is in a good mood," Malcolm said.

Amanda looked at Malcolm and wavered in her thoughts.

"If you want to leave, I won't be insulted," Malcolm said.

"Actually," Amanda said, "I was thinking about staying. You remind me of a friend of mine, I've realized. If it's fine with you, I would like to get to know you better."

"We could start over. Hi, my name's Malcolm."

"A pleasure to meet you. My name is Amanda."

[This is going to be a strange conversation. If she calls me Louis, I'm in big trouble.]

*

Violet sat cross-legged on the bed, her robes lying on the floor on top of Dewey's. She glanced in anticipation at the boy sitting across from her.

"Do you have any Three's?" she asked.

Dewey looked up and smiled. "Go Fish," he replied.

"Drat," Violet muttered as she drew a card.

*

"This people are disgusting," Hal whispered.

"Excuse me," Lucius Malfoy said, "I get the feeling that you are not enjoying yourself."

"To be honest," Hal said, "we're out of our league here. All these people talk about is money and family. The last thing I want to talk about is my family."

"Then tell them," Lucius said, "If they can't talk about anything else, they're not worth talking to. And you don't have to be nice about it. On the other hand, they are my wife's friends. I have to be nice"

"Oh, I get it. Find someone who can afford to talk about something else," Hal said. "Is there anyone into sports?"

Lucius pointed Hal to a promising group of men, and turned around to find someone truly obnoxious waiting to talk to him. "Cousin Egonia, how are you, darling," he drawled.

*

"It must be a disappointment," Egonia said to Lois. "I mean, you do have two children without any magical abilities."

"Yes it is," Lois answered, "I only wish it could have been four."

"You can't mean that," Egonia said, "You're only saying that because of your own lack of abilities."

"Lack, Nothing," Lois said with a laugh, "I'm saying that because they're the original children from hell. Do you think Reese is over there as a statue because he's a nice boy? I noticed your kids are no angels, either."

"They are rambunctious, I admit," Egonia said, "but you can't control them in an environment like this."

Lois smiled maliciously, and said, "Follow me."

As the two ladies approached the children's pen, excuse me, the children's area. Lois spotted a nervous house elf standing out of range of the flying cake. "Is the floor clean?" she asked.

"Uh, uh, uh," the elf stuttered.

"Excuse me," Lois said, "Is this floor clean enough to eat off of?"

"Yes, Yes, Lady," the elf said excitedly, as it understood the question.

"What are you going to do?" Egonia asked.

"I'm going to ask them to clean up their mess," Lois said, and she walked into range of the two boys.

"Look," one of the boys said as the new victim approached.

"Go ahead," Lois said in her sweetest voice, "Try it."

The boy hesitated. His brother raised his hand to throw but was stopped by a well placed, "Don't you dare."

"Eat that cake," Lois said, as the two boys hastily ate everything in their hands, and licked their fingers clean.

"Now, the rest of the cake," Lois said smiling, as she pointed to the floor.

"Thank you, Lady, Thank you," The house elf said as the two boys got down on their hands and knees.

"I must practice that voice," Egonia said in admiration.

"That was impressive," Lucius said as Egonia went to supervise the cleanup.

"I'm amazed at how little effort people make to control their children," Lois said.

"It isn't that hard," Lucius admitted, "we've had problems with Draco, but never anything we couldn't handle, as long as we tried. Why is that house elf clutching your leg?"

"He's the one who was supposed to watch the kids," Lois said, "I think he's grateful."

"They do tend to be overly emotional. Ah, but you don't have any house elves, do you? This one's Nob, I think, I obtained him recently as a replacement for one I lost. He's my Christmas gift, belatedly, to your family."

"You're giving him to me?" Lois asked, incredulously.

"It's no great loss," Lucius said, "He isn't very good at his job. The best house elves are never seen."

Before Lois could reply, Lucius spotted someone he 'had' to talk to, and walked away, leaving a stunned Lois, and a very happy house elf, to themselves.

*

"I have the servants looking everywhere," Lucius said, "they will find the two children, shortly."

"I don't believe Violet ran off with a boy," the girl said. "It isn't like her. I can see her running off, but on her own."

"I'd agree with that," Hal said, "Dewey is exactly the same way."

"I'll take care of this," Narcissa said, "I know how children think, and I know where they most likely are."

She led the small group up the stairs to the wing where the guest bedrooms were. She gently paused by each door.

"They're not here, but then both of them have been to the house before. We'll try one more room."

She led them to her son's bedroom. When she thought she heard a noise she opened the door, spying the two children sitting on the bed.

"Where are your clothes, dears?" Narcissa asked calmly.

Dewey and Violet pointed to the floor.

"Then, please dress quickly, and come back downstairs."

"But the robes itch," Violet complained, while Dewey chimed in with a well-placed "Yeah."

Narcissa smiled and waved her wand at the robes. "They will be more comfortable to wear, now. I given them a flannel lining which should last the rest of the night. And please hurry, children. It's almost midnight."

*

"Lois," Hal said, "guess what they were doing when we found them."

"Playing cards?"

"You would think that, wouldn't you," Hal said with a laugh. "They were, but that did start me thinking."

"Later," Lois said sternly.

"Honey," Hal asked, "what is that thing around your leg?"

*

"I can't believe how much energy your children have," Narcissa said to Lois. "It's almost two in the morning and Dewey is still going strong."

"Different time zones," Lois said, "Dewey still has another hour before his regular bedtime."

"And I'm sure you are looking forward to that," Narcissa exclaimed, "He can be quite a handful. I should tell you, he reminds me so much of my own son when he was small. Finding him in the bedroom like that reminded me of that time when we took Draco to London."

Lois laughed, "I think you're the first person to admit liking Dewey."

*

"That's wrong," Dewey said to the men at the table, "If you have the strength, you have the right. Anyone can complain, but if they can't do anything about it, it doesn't matter."

"Do you mean we should disregard public opinion?" one of the men asked.

"If you're strong enough, you can make public opinion," Dewey admonished. "Everyone wants to follow a leader. All you have to do is remember that they are all pawns. Give them a strong leader and everyone will fall into line."

"We could learn a lot from young Dewey's attitude," MacNair said to his friends.

"Indeed," his colleague replied, "Dewey, we will certainly keep an eye on you. If there is anything you would like, we will try to provide it?"

"I'd like one of those tattoos," Dewey asked, "except I don't like black. Do you have anything in red?"

"A Red Mark?" MacNair said. "We could look into that."

"We could form a juniors group," the colleague suggested.

"Okay, champ," Hal said walking into the room, "It's time to head home."

"I don't want to go," Dewey said forcefully.

"Too bad," Hal said as he picked Dewey up and carried him out of the room.

"Daaad," Dewey complained, "You're embarrassing me in front of my minions."

"I'm sure they understand."

"Can I get a tattoo?"

"Ask your mother."

"I never get to do anything," Dewey complained.

  
  



	18. The New Year Begins

CHAPTER 19: THE NEW YEAR BEGINS 

Harry Potter was sleeping soundly in his bed when he was rudely awakened. He fumbled for his glasses while telling whoever it was to stop shaking him. As he put his glasses on, he stared at the smiling figure facing him.

"Reese?" He said warily, "What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to be the first one to tell you, Harry. I've got some really great news."

"What news? What happened?"

"The judge gave his assent," Reese said joyfully, "The papers were approved."

"What papers?" Harry asked with a sense of nervousness.

"The adoption papers," Reese explained. "As of midnight, we're officially brothers. Isn't that fantastic?"

*

"What happened? I heard screaming." Hermione asked as she came running out of her dorm room.

"It was Harry," Neville explained. "He had a nightmare. But he's okay, now. Ron is with him."

"Does he remember what it was?"

"Only that it was something horrible," Neville said.

"He was probably dreaming about his parents again," Hermione said sadly, adding, "and You-Know-Who."

*

"Malcolm," Draco asked, "How was your vacation? My parents said they were inviting you over to celebrate the New Year."

"It was very strange," Malcolm said, "Malcolm Baddock spent the entire evening asking me why I existed."

"Just treat him like he was your brother. Hit him if he doesn't go away. Why didn't you get Reese to do something? He loves that type of thing."

"Some girl turned him into a coat rack. I talked to your Dad about it, but he changed him back, anyway."

Draco smiled at the comment, and asked, "Then who was it they found in my bedroom? Baddock said your brother was in my bed with a girl."

"That was Dewey."

"Dewey?" Draco said in a confused voice.

"They were only playing cards."

"Then why were they . . . "Draco began to ask, then changed his mind. "Did your parents have a good time?"

"Yeah," Malcolm said with a laugh, "Your dad gave my mom a house elf, because she insulted his cousin, and Francis has a date with MacNair's niece."

"I know her," Draco said, "She makes me look like a muggle-lover. Why would she want to go out with your brother?"

"I don't know. Francis says it's due to a lack of commitment."

*

"But Nob cannot take clothes from you, mistress," Nob the house elf said, "That means that mistress is freeing Nob, and Nob will have to leave."

"Listen to me," Lois said losing her patience, "I will not have you running around this house wearing a towel. These are Dewey's old clothes and they will fit you, and you will wear them."

"But then Nob will be free," Nob pleaded.

"Fine, you'll be free," Lois said, "And if you want to, you can leave. But if you stay, you better expect to work."

"Nob can stay?" Nob asked. "Nob can stay without being owned?"

"Welcome to America," Lois said, "We're not allowed to own people here."

"But Nob is not a person."

"Did you understand what I just told you?" Lois demanded.

"Yes?"

"Then you are a person. Any questions?"

Nob paused as the thought of not being owned but being able to stay filtered its way into his brain. "Where does Nob sleep, mistress?"

"Oh, I guess Malcolm's old bed, and don't call me mistress. You make it sound like I'm running a Whorehouse. Call me Lois."

"Yes, Lois," Nob said proudly, "what do you want Nob to do?"

"For now, just go up to Dewey every five minutes and tell him he's not supposed to do that"

"But what will Dewey be doing?"

"It doesn't matter. Whatever it is, he isn't supposed to be doing it."

*

The cold frosty dawn in January was disturbed by the sounds of two young Hogwarts students, playing by the lake.

"You see, Dennis, hold the rock so that when you throw it, it's almost even with the water. Then you can skip the rock across the water. Try it again."

"I get it, Malcolm. Look. It worked. The rock skipped five times."

"Watch out, here comes the rock, " Malcolm said, as the smooth rock came flying out of the lake. He picked it up and said, "Okay Dennis, try again."

"What are the two of you doing?" Ginny asked as she walked up to them.

"Malcolm's teaching me dexterity," Dennis said, "it's one of the skills I'll need if I ever become an animagus."

"It looks to me like he's teaching you how to skip rocks," Ginny said.

"And He's getting good at it," Malcolm said, "Go ahead, Dennis. Show her."

Dennis palmed the rock as he had been taught and threw it across the lake. "One . . . Two . . . Three . . . Four . . . Five . . . Six, a new record," he shouted happily.

"Careful," Malcolm said, as the rock came flying back, landing on the spot where Dennis had been standing. "We only have one rock," Malcolm explained, "and the Giant Squid is nice enough to keep throwing it back to us."

"May I try?" Ginny asked, and Malcolm handed her the rock. She tossed it, and smiled as Dennis counted off seven skips.

"My record is nine," Ginny said, looking Malcolm straight in the eye, "I did twelve once, when I was a little girl, but I realized I had unintentionally used magic. I don't count that one."

Without moving her eyes, Ginny held out her hand and caught the incoming rock. "By the way, the squid and I are old friends." She tossed the rock back to Malcolm, and walked back to the castle.

[I hate when she does that.]

"I hate when she does that," Dennis said.

"I was just thinking the same thing," Malcolm replied.

*

"Hello, Mom," Francis said into the telephone.

"Mom is not here," said the voice at the other end.

"Who is this?" Francis asked, "Did I dial the right number."

"This is Nob. I do not know. And excuse me." Francis listened as the voice turned away from the phone and called out, "Dewey, you are not supposed to be doing that."

"What was Dewey doing?"

"Nob does not know. Nob does know he was not supposed to be doing it."

"Fine," Francis said, "Is my mother there."

"Mother?" Nob replied. "Do you mean Lois? She is taking a nap and will end Nob's existence on this planet if she is disturbed. Would you like me to get her for you?"

"Um, no, that's all right," Francis said, and he heard a sigh of relief come from the other end of the phone. "Just let her know that I called."

"Can Nob wait until Lois is done with her nap?"

"Yeah, that's not a problem."

"Oh, thank you. Thank you. Nob is very grateful. Dewey, you are not supposed to be doing that. Thank you. Thank you."

"How is your conversation going?" Stan asked, walking up to Francis.

"I have no idea," Francis said, "I think I'm talking to the house elf."

"Yes, Nob is the house elf," the voice from the phone said.

"Thank You, Nob."

"Francis is welcome. Nob is happy to help."

"Nob, how OLD are you?" Francis asked in a joking manner.

"Nob is this . . ." the voice said as the sound of the phone being dropped was heard.

"Nob is sorry. Nob dropped the . . . the . . . what this is."

"It's called a phone," Francis said, as Stan laughed. "Nob, could I talk to Dewey, please."

"Should Dewey be doing that?"

"Yes, definitely," Francis said.

Dewey picked up the phone as Nob said, "Dewey, you should not be doing that."

"Francis, He's really annoying."

"I know he is, Dewey," Francis said, "but he did something strange, and I need you to ask him a question. Ask him how old he is, then tell me what he does."

Francis listened as Dewey said, "Nob, how old are you?" then Dewey spoke into the phone saying, "He's holding up all the fingers on one hand and one finger on the other hand."

"Great," Francis said, "That means your new servant is six years old."

"No, he isn't," Dewey said, "His hands only have four fingers."

Stan saw the look on Francis's face and asked, "What happened?"

"My mom has a five-year-old elf watching my brother."

Stan frowned and said, "I take it this is not a good thing."

Francis went to talk into the phone and heard Nob in the background, saying "Dewey, you're not supposed to be doing that."

Dewey was heard, saying, "I'm older than you are. I don't have to listen to you."

"Dewey," Francis called out, "Get Mom, and tell her I need to talk to her."

"No," Dewey replied, "She'll kill me." 

"Then wake her up by telling her that Nob is Five."

"What happened?" Stan asked.

"He hung up."

*

"Your parents own a house elf?" Hermione said in disgust, "How can they do that?"

"They don't own him," Malcolm said, "He's kind of like Dobby, he works for room and board."

"Oh, how nice," Hermione said, "Room and board. Couldn't they try enlightening him to his potential in the world?"

"Well, they take him to the movies every weekend," Malcolm said.

"The movies?" Harry Potter asked, laughing. "Do they buy him popcorn?"

"And a soft drink." Malcolm said, as Harry began rolling on the floor.

Hermione tried to keep a straight face and failed.

"My parents sent me a family picture," Malcolm said, "that's why I mentioned it."

Controlling their laughter, Harry and Hermione looked at the picture.

"Why is your house elf wearing sunglasses?" Hermione asked.

"They go with the overalls," Malcolm said. "See. That's Thomas the Tank Engine."

"Malcolm," Hermione said, "Go Away. Please, Go Away."


	19. The Dreaded Day

A/N: I wanted to pour out my thanks to everyone who has been reading the story. I also wanted to warn you that this will not be a funny chapter. It covers an event I've been hinting toward, and that is why it is called . . .

  
  
CHAPTER 20: THE DREADED DAY 

"What is Dennis Creevey doing?" Ginny asked.

"You know how he wants to be an animagus," Malcolm said. "Well, I thought it would be a good idea if he knew what type of animal he wanted to become."

"And he's looking through nature books?"

"Yeah, he wants to be a bird, like me, but he doesn't feel comfortable as an owl. I told him how the animal should fit his personality, so he's checking things out."

"How close is he to becoming an animagus?"

"The truth is," Malcolm said, "I never realized how hard it was, until I started teaching him. I'm guessing he'll be in his fourth year by the time he's good enough at transfiguration. His skills are improving, but it will take time. I was lucky that I had a natural talent for it."

"So there isn't any quick spell?" Ginny said.

"There is, but if you can't do it right, it doesn't matter."

Ginny smiled at Malcolm and said, "You may not like it, but you have matured. I like seeing you this way."

"Thanks, I guess," Malcolm said. "Do you want to come to the Hospital this weekend? The mature performing owl could always use a helping hand."

"I'd love to, Professor Malcolm," Ginny said with a laugh.

*

It was Sunday night, and Malcolm was sitting in the Headmaster's Office, looking across the desk at Dumbledore.

"Why don't you tell me what happened," Dumbledore said.

"Everything was fine on the train," Malcolm said, "but when we got to the hospital, the nurse said that we couldn't see Basil, because he was sleeping. Draco started shaking, and kept asking to look in on his brother, and the nurse finally agreed. Draco came out a few minutes later and ran off. We tried for a while but we couldn't find him, then some doctor assured us he was still inside the hospital, and they would watch in case he tried to leave.

"Ginny and I went to entertain the kids, and some of the older patients. When we found out that Draco was still in the building, Nurse Hull offered to let us stay the night, and we decided it might be best if we did..

"In the morning, we helped out a bit, but when we asked, the nurses said Draco was doing fine. Then we were told it was time to head back to school. I still don't know what happened to Draco."

"Thank you, Malcolm," Albus said. "I do appreciate your efforts, and you concern for your friend. I should tell you that he IS fine, and Dr. Spencer is on her way here with him."

Malcolm sighed with relief. "I was worried. Draco looked awfully scared when he came out of the room."

"He loves his brother very much," Albus said, "and he is afraid of losing him. Your friendship with him will help in the days to come."

"It's hard," Malcolm admitted. "I can see Draco changing. I don't know if he'll want to be my friend anymore. I know Ginny is trying her best to remain close to him, but he keeps pushing her away as well."

Albus sighed. "Miss Weasley is a warmhearted person. She will do anything she can, I think, even if her parents are against it. I admit, I do not know if that is a good thing."

"Did Dr. Spencer say anything?" Malcolm asked.

"An interesting question," Albus answered, "She said that would violate the relationship between doctor and patient. We will have to trust her with this. And, Malcolm, I will have to ask you not to discuss the conversation with Ginny, and especially not with Draco."

[This is creepy. I'm losing a friend, and now I have to keep secrets from him. How is life Unfair? Let me count the ways.]

*

Malcolm kept an eye out for Draco the next couple of days. They even talked briefly about nothing in particular. Everything seemed to be returning to normal. Then he went down to breakfast. It was on the fourth day since they had come back, that it happened.

Malcolm had just sat down, when Neville Longbottom walked over to Ginny.

"Good Morning," Ginny said cheerfully.

"Er, Ginny," Neville said nervously, "I received a letter from St. Mungo's today."

Ginny froze. "What did it say?"

"That's the weird part," Neville said, and Ginny tensed. Malcolm noticed them talking and saw her reaction. "It said to tell you that I got the letter."

Ginny's hands went to her face. When that happened, Malcolm quickly looked over at the Slytherin table, but Draco wasn't there. He looked back and Ginny was running from the Hall. Malcolm got up to follow, but Neville caught up to him in the hallway outside.

"What happened?" he demanded.

"Nothing," Malcolm said, as he looked around for Ginny.

"It's Basil, isn't it?" Neville hissed.

"You know?" Malcolm asked in surprise.

"Malfoy keeps my secret, and I keep his," Neville said evenly, "What happened?"

Malcolm explained, hastily, "You know, they won't tell Draco anything, unless he's there, and they can't tell anyone else about Basil. But I worked it out. Because of your parents they could contact you, but they couldn't say anything. We struck a deal that if anything happened, they would send you THAT letter."

"Clever," Neville said, "but Ginny is probably trying to find Draco. You know the way to Slytherin. You lead."

[Neville? He's acting more like Potter than Potter ever did.]

"Let's go," Neville insisted, and Malcolm led the way. Halfway there, they ran into Ginny face to face with Draco, with Crabbe and Goyle flanking him. Ginny was sobbing.

"Is it true?" Draco asked tonelessly.

Neville nodded. Draco nodded back and said nothing. Ginny tried to take his hand, and Draco shook it off angrily. He backed up and let out a soundless scream. Suddenly he began to strike out at anyone, but Gregory Goyle was prepared. He grabbed Draco and held him close. Draco hit him repeatedly, but Gregory stood there, holding on. Eventually, Draco exhausted himself, and collapsed. Goyle held him firmly as Draco began crying into his shoulder.

Vincent Crabbe walked to the Gryffindor students and said, "We'll take him to Madam Pomfrey. He'll be fine." Neville nodded again, gently took Ginny's arm and led her away.

Malcolm stayed to ask, "You knew, as well?"

"Malcolm, we grew up together. Of course, Gregory and I knew. He never told us where he went, but it wasn't hard to figure out." Vincent turned to Draco, then turned back and said, "I'm glad he found out from friends. It will be easier for him."

*

The Gryffindors and Slytherins were settling in for third year Potions Class the next day, when Professor Snape walked in. "Take out your quills," he said angrily, "You will spend this class writing the description and uses of all the ingredients that you know of. I expect at least three feet by the end of the class."

"Not you two," He added, looking directly at Malcolm and Ginny. "I heard about your altercation with certain Slytherins yesterday, and we will be discussing the matter with Professor Dumbledore. Collect your belongings." He looked up and said to the rest of the class. "Mr. Filch will watch you while I am gone, and I have left him a free hand to deal with any cheaters."

Snape ushered the two students out of the classroom, and led the way down the hall, when Ginny said, "Dumbledore's office isn't this way."

"We're not going to his office," Snape said, then added, "Wait here." He walked into another classroom and came out with Neville Longbottom. He ushered them down another hall, through several rarely used corridors, to a dusty old door.

"You may not believe this, Miss Weasley, but this is the only door that your brothers could never find their way past. And now, I am trusting you with the password." Professor Snape turned toward the door, and said, solemnly, "Requiescat."

The door opened to the outside. It was a large field surrounded by high walls. Near one of the walls was a small group of people.

"You should know," Severus Snape said, "This place is normally reserved for former teachers who have made a request, and the occasional orphaned student."

The three students said nothing about their surroundings as they followed the Potions Professor into the school cemetery.

Albus Dumbledore was standing by the grave with Draco and Vincent. Gregory stood on the other side with Dr. Spencer, and the nurse who always took care of Basil. Malcolm numbly stood where Snape placed him and looked at the grave. A coffin, too small to look real was sitting there, waiting to be lowered. He looked at the headstone, and smiled when he read the name, "Basil Malfoy." A date followed it, the date of birth. Underneath was another date, the day before yesterday. Beneath it was the inscription "Beloved Brother, Beloved Friend." Malcolm began to cry.

Someone put a hand on his shoulder and he looked up at Professor Snape. "He is in a better place," Severus said softly, "because he died knowing he was loved."


	20. The Second Task

CHAPTER 21: THE SECOND TASK 

Everyone was excited. The second task of the Tournament was taking place today. The stands were packed early and Malcolm was glad of his animagus abilities. He could fly over the crowds, and save some good seats. Hedwig helped.

"Where's Dewey?" Ginny asked.

"He couldn't make it," Malcolm explained. "He has to be in the school play. I think he's a cucumber or something."

"I'm sure he'll be an excellent cucumber," Neville said with a laugh.

"Where's everyone else?" Malcolm asked.

"You mean Ron and Hermione?" Ginny said, "They get to be the hostages in today's task. Victor Krum gets to rescue Hermione, and Harry has to rescue Ron."

"Okay," Malcolm said, "so where's Harry?"

"He's . . . somewhere," Ginny explained.

"Probably overslept," Fred chimed in from behind them.

"Fred's right," George said, pointing at a figure running toward the lake, "Here comes the Gryffindor Champion, now."

"Harry likes dramatic entrances," Fred added.

*

"He's just walking into the water," Ginny said.

"He brought some bubblegum with him," George said as they watched Harry put something in his mouth.

"Looks more like chewing tobacco," Malcolm said.

"Excuse me," Ginny said with annoyance, "can't either of you be serious?"

George and Malcolm looked at each other and laughed.

"Of course we could, dear sister," George said, "but what would be the point."

"There he goes," Neville yelled as Harry Potter plunged into the lake.

"Look," Fred said pointing, "Cedric made an air bubble so he can breath."

"The Beauxbatons girl did the same thing," George added, then adopted a solemn attitude, saying, "I now pronounce you Mister and Missus Bubblehead."

"The Bubbleheads are taking their bubblebath now," Neville said.

"That's the spirit, Neville," George told him, "why be serious when you can make fun of people."

"Look at Krum, " Ginny pointed out as the Bulgarian student dove into the lake, "He transfigured his head into a shark's head."

"That was neat," Fred told her, "but, Malcolm, why are you going dun dun dun?"

"It's from an old movie," Malcolm said, "and it's dun-dun, dun-dun, dun-dun . . . "

[I thought everybody heard of JAWS?]

"Is that it?" Malcolm asked after they made him stop with the movie themes.

"No," Fred said, "now we sit around for an hour and hope that nobody drowns."

"Well, at least Dewey isn't here to annoy us," Malcolm said.

"What do you mean?" Neville asked. "Someone has to cheer for the Squid."

"He IS getting good at this, " George told his brother.

*

"The hour set for the second task is now over," Ludo Bagman, the spokesman, said.

[I hope they show up soon. We're really beginning to annoy everyone around us.]

"There's somebody," Ginny called out, along with dozens of other people.

"It's Diggory," Fred announced with annoyance, "He's got Cho Chang with him. Where's Harry? He was the first to dive in."

A few minutes later, Fleur Delacour came out of the lake, alone. The small group sighed.

"At least she won't beat us," Fred said hopefully.

"Assuming Harry shows up with Ron," George added.

"Wait a minute," Malcolm said, excitedly, "She didn't come back with her sister. You said they took her sister hostage."

"Malcolm," Ginny said, grabbing his arm, "What are you talking about?"

"That poem, about leaving the bodies to rot," Malcolm said, nervousness creeping into his voice, then he became embarrassed as everyone began laughing.

"That was only to tell the time limit," Ginny said between giggles. "How could you believe they would let anyone get hurt."

Neville chided him, saying, "It's your genius, Malcolm, anyone else would have assumed the obvious."

[Thanks.]

"There's Krum," someone called out, and the Gryffindors turned to watch.

"He's got Hermione," Fred muttered.

"Don't worry," George said, unenthusiastically, "Harry will come through. We'll still win, somehow."

"It's just that . . . " Fred began to say, "I don't care about winning. Harry has a lot of pressure on him. And he didn't get in the Tournament the normal way."

"He'll be fine," George said, "There are too many safeguards for anything serious to happen."

"We're all worried," Ginny added.

"If he takes any longer, he could die of embarrassment," Neville said in an attempt at humor.

"You're right, George," Fred said with some cheer, "He is getting good at this."

Everyone turned to the lake as the crowd around them roared. Harry Potter had surfaced, finally. He had Ron with him, as well as a young girl, Fleur's sister. He was easy to spot because he was being escorted by a score of merpeople.

Ginny passed around the omniculars she had borrowed, and when Malcolm had his turn he looked to see Harry and Ron wade ashore along with the young girl.

"She's beautiful," Malcolm said, as he regretfully passed the omniculars to Neville. He turned to Ginny and said, smugly, "I guess I'm not the only one."

Ginny said nothing until the scores were announced. Harry Potter was given high marks for showing Moral Fiber, and was tied for first with Cedric Diggory.

"There's the difference, Malcolm. Harry has enough moral fiber that it can be seen without a magnifying glass."

[It figures. Potter and I make the same mistake. I get ridiculed, but they turn it around so they can praise him. It's like having Dewey as an older brother.]

As the crowd began to disperse, Malcolm looked over to where Madame Maxime stood, talking to Fleur and her sister. He watched as Fleur Delacour walked away to talk to Harry Potter.

"I'm going to meet her," he said.

"That girl?" Ginny said, "You can't be serious. She's only eight or nine."

"She can't be," Malcolm said, "I saw her eyes. She has to be older than that. I'm going to say hello."

"Malcolm, Don't," Ginny said as Malcolm disappeared, and an owl flew away from his seat. She looked down, judged the distance, and dropped to the ground as Fred and George landed on either side of her.

"I'll hold your seats," Neville called.

*

"Are you feeling better, Gabrielle?" Madame Maxime, the Beauxbatons Headmistress, asked her young charge.

"Oui, Madame," Gabrielle said in a low voice.

"I am zorry, Gabrielle" Madame Maxime whispered, "I know it is hard on you, but zey will learn to respect you. Zee what your sister has accomplished."

"Oui, Madame," Gabrielle said again, clutching the blanket around her, "I only wish that zomeone would zee me for what I am."

"Iz there a letter coming?" Madame Maxime asked, as an owl came flying toward her. She was also curious as to why three red-haired teenagers were running after it. Then the owl paused in midair and became Malcolm.

"Uh, um," Malcolm said as his tongue refused to work. He smiled sheepishly at the young French girl, who, after a pause, smiled back.

"My name iz Gabrielle," she said after the awkward silence, "What do you want with such a girl little as moi?"

"I know what it's like, " Malcolm said, "I've only just started growing, myself."

Madame Maxime, stared at the two, then noticed the way they were looking at each other. "Spring haz come early," she said to the air. Turning to Ginny and the twins, who were catching their breath, she asked, "And why are ze three of you `ere?"

"We're sorry," Ginny said, "we tried to stop Malcolm. He saw that little girl and thought she was older than she looks."

"After all," Fred said helpfully, "She's only, what, eight. We wanted to keep Malcolm from looking like a fool."

"`e `az already done zat," Madame Maxime said, harshly, "You children should `ave thought about yourzelves." She forced them to step away from Malcolm and Gabrielle, then began to lecture them. "You have no knowledge of Veela's, exzept perhaps, what you have read in the less reliable newspapers. Gabrielle may be small, but she iz one of the best of our first-year students. Do not let your minds deceive you."

"She's eleven?" The Twins said in surprise.

"She iz almost twelve," Madame Maxime said, "IF you want to judge `er properly, look at `ow she carries `erself."

" Malcolm said she was older," Ginny told Madame Maxime, "he said he saw it in her eyes."

"And lost his `eart," Madame Maxime said in a softer tone. The four looked back to see Gabrielle introducing Malcolm to her sister.

For some reason, Ginny blushed as she watched Gabrielle take Malcolm's hand in hers. "Shut up," she told her brothers before they could say anything. Then she sighed.

"Zis is a perfect case of puppy love," Madame Maxime said.

"What strange children," She added, as she watched the three redheads, bent over in laughter.

*

Malcolm stared at the girl, now that he had come face to face with her.

[I've got to say something witty and charming.]

"Uh, Um," Malcolm said smoothly.

After an awkward pause, the girl said, "`ello. My name is Gabrielle."

[Her name is Gabrielle. This is Great.]

"What do you want with such a girl little as moi?"

"I know what it's like," Malcolm said, "I've only started growing, myself."

[No, you idiot. Say something romantic. Something cool.]

"Uh, I'm Malcolm."

"`ello, Malcolm."

[She knows my name. This is great.]

"Do you like school?" Malcolm said, "yours, I mean."

"Yes, exzept for ze boys. They are zo childish."

[She thinks I'm childish. This is Great.]

"Yeah, they are. I can't stand them myself."

The older version of Gabrielle walked up to them and said, "and who is zis?"

"Fleur," Gabeielle said, smiling, "Zis is Malcolm. I know `is name. Iz that not wonderful?"

"That iz wonderful," Fleur said, "It iz a pleasure to meet you Malcolm, after meeting your brothers." Her smile widened as Fleur saw her sister take Malcolm's hand.

*

"That was hard to believe," Ginny said, at dinner, "Harry getting all those points for 'Moral Fiber'."

"I think it was nice of Harry to do that," Amber Dowling said. "It shows he has a warm heart."

"Speaking of warm hearts," EJ asked, "Where is Malcolm?" When Ginny snorted, he added, "and why is that funny?"

"Malcolm is having dinner with the Beauxbatons, in their coach," she said with an effort.

"How did he manage that?" EJ asked. He had learned, long ago, to expect the unusual when Malcolm was involved.

"Gabrielle Delacour," Ginny said, smugly. "Malcolm is going through a very bad case of, and I quote Madam Maxime herself, 'puppy love'."

After they finished laughing, EJ asked, "How old is she? She looked to be . . . "

"She's only six months younger than Malcolm," Ginny said, "It's something to do with being part Veela. Madam Maxime explained it. Gabrielle will catch up in the next few years, but she'll always look younger than her age."

"How did Malcolm know this?" Amber asked.

"He didn't. He said something about looking in her eyes." Ginny said.

"Hi Ginny," Fred and George said as they came in. "The strangest thing just happened to us."

"What did Malcolm do now?" Ginny asked, to general laughter.

"Do you want to tell her?" Fred asked.

"If you insist," George responded. "We have lent our brooms to Malcolm so that he and his little girlfriend can go flying."

"That was two brooms?" EJ asked, "for two people?"

"You have guessed correctly. You win the prize. Malcolm is going to fly."

A small crowd of Gryffindors got out of their seats and went outside to watch.

A confused Gregory Goyle overheard someone's comment as he walked into the Hall. He walked over to Draco and told him, "The Gryffindors have left"

"I don't want to hear it," Draco said, "the Gryffindors are going to be bragging about what happened all term. They went off to celebrate, I expect."

"No they didn't." Goyle said, "Malcolm is flying a broom."

"But Malcolm can't fly," Draco said loudly.

When Gregory simply nodded, a small crowd of Slytherins got up, and went outside.

*

"I am zorry Madam Pomfrey," Fleur Delacour said. "I am always careful not to make eye contact, but Gabrielle, she did not know to do that. I did not `ave this problem until I was much older than she iz."

"I am prepared," Madam Pomfrey said, cheerfully, "I'll put it down to one of the many problems I've had with Malcolm. Where is he now?"

"I had Gabrielle suggest they fly brooms for a while. He went to get zem."

Madam Pomfrey stopped in her tracks. "Fleur, Malcolm can't fly a broom."

"I think, maybe, `e does not know that," Fleur replied.

"We had better hurry," Madam Pomfrey said.

*

"The rumors are true, it appears," Dumbledore said as he stepped outside and joined the crowd.

"Apparently Malcolm has cured himself," Professor McGonagall pronounced.

"No he hasn't," A voice said from behind them.

"What do you mean, Poppy?" Albus asked.

"That girl Malcolm is with is part Veela, " Madame Pomfrey said, "and they made eye contact. Apparently, she is just old enough to affect men. Albus, Malcolm is enamoured, and we have to convince him to come down and take the antidote."

"Easily done," Albus said. "I'll take care of it."

"Malcolm can be difficult, Professor," Madam Pomfrey warned.

"Too true," Albus said, "Argus Filch still complains about him every day because of that time he stole Mrs. Norris."

Albus called out "Sonorus," then directed his amplified voice toward the two flyers. "Malcolm, Gabrielle, I need to talk to the two of you for a moment."

Dutifully, the two flew their brooms over to the headmaster, and landed, or, in Malcolm's case, plopped down.

"I'm sorry, Sir," Malcolm said, hastily, "I thought we were allowed to fly, as long as we had supervision. Madame Maxime was keeping an eye on us."

Albus held his hand up to silence the boy, "Malcolm, you have done nothing wrong. There seems to be a problem with Gabrielle." He held his hand up again as Malcolm started to interrupt. "Apparently, no one realized that she is old enough to, how shall we say it, come into her inheritance. She is part Veela, and as a result has the ability to influence the men around her. Even men as young as you are. We are afraid that you have been enamoured, and we need you to take this potion. Now."

Malcolm looked in disbelief at the vial.

[It would help me a lot if fifty people weren't watching me right now.]

He turned around and looked at Gabrielle who had turned her back on him. "I'm zorry," she said, "I did not want to believe it."

"How did I become enamoured?" he asked.

"It would have happened when you made eye contact," Madam Pomfrey answered.

"Excuse me," Ginny Weasley said, "I couldn't help overhearing."

"As close as you were standing, Miss Weasley, I am not surprised," Professor McGonagall said with amusement.

"Well, yes, but," Ginny said, "Malcolm first saw her through the omniculars I had. That was when he decided to fly over and talk to her."

"How interesting," Dumbledore said, as people began to stare. "Well then, Malcolm. You had best drink this, to make sure."

"Go ahead, Malcolm, zis will prove my point," Madame Maxime said as she walked up to the crowd.

Malcolm opened the vial, and drank the contents, making a nasty face. "What happens now?" he asked, as he returned the empty vial.

"That is up to you," Dumbledore said with a smile.

Malcolm went to Gabrielle and turned her around, but she made it a point to look down. Malcolm smiled and said, "My mom says it's rude not to look at people when they talk to you."

"Zen you were not enamoured," she asked, as she looked up at him

[Okay, Malcolm. Don't say anything stupid.]

"Not by magic," Malcolm said, and fifty-odd voices said "Awwwww."

[There is no blood left in my body. It has all gone to my face.]

[I `ave to tell you. He is not ze only one.]

"You zee," Madame Maxime said, "I know love, and I know magic." Then she added, to herself, "and I must talk to `agrid."

*

Malcolm was up bright and early to bid Gabrielle goodbye. As she came out of the Beauxbatons coach, she smiled and said, "I want to thank you for a wonderful time." He escorted her to the horseless carriage and opened the door for her. She hugged him and climbed in. As the coach began to leave, she called back, "I will tell Jean Paul `ow you kept me amused."

[What? Jean Paul? Amused? What the hell just happened?]

  
  



	21. Passing The Time

CHAPTER 22: PASSING THE TIME 

"How do you feel?" Draco asked.

"Hollow," Malcolm answered, "I don't believe she left me like that."

"At least you can fly a broom," Draco offered.

"Yeah, but now I don't want to. I always think of Gabrielle sitting somewhere and telling Jean Paul how amusing I was."

Draco smiled at his friend. "Don't worry. You'll live. I've been through worse."

Malcolm looked back at Draco and said, "Thanks, that does help."

"Good," Draco said, "now that you've agreed to join the living again, I wanted to give you a warning. For your sake, it might be best to keep your distance from Potter. I've been hearing things."

"What kind of things," Malcolm asked, "I know you've been saying a lot of things about him."

"It's keeps us at a distance," Draco said, "and I can judge other people that way, by where they stand between us, you know, watching which way the wind blows. And right now the wind is blowing from Gryffindor."

"That's a curious phrase," Malcolm said, carefully.

"Yes it is," Draco said, "Take it as a hint that I won't tell everything I know. I'll keep my secrets. I will tell you that things are happening, but I don't know what. I do know that Potter is involved, and that it won't be good. And Malcolm, warn anyone that you think will listen. Potter is not safe to be around."

[I think I've learned how to spell Paranoia with a D.]

"I appreciate the warning, Draco, but everyone is already walking on their toes around him. We already know enough to be careful."

"I hope you're right," Draco said.

*

"Everyone will listen attentively," Professor Snape said to the third year Potions class, "I will explain this once, and once only, I am giving each of you a potion. You will identify the potion, and mix the counter potion. It is not enough to know how to prepare potions, you must be able to recognize the potions you have. Think of this as a preparation for your final exam."

"Excuse me, Sir," a Slytherin asked, "I think I'm developing a spring cold."

"How terrible. You may go see Madam Pomfrey . . . after you have finished," Snape replied, then added in a raised voice, "and no student will be excused for any reason. No one may leave until everyone is finished. There will be no exceptions." He then turned to Malcolm and said, "You are to see Professor McGonagall. I believe you are going to a Birthday Party."

Severus Snape smiled inwardly, as Malcolm blushed with embarrassment, and the rest of the class glared at him for getting special treatment.

[He could have told me before class that McGonagall wanted to see me this early.]

*

"Owww," Malcolm said as Professor McGonagall hit a snag while combing his hair.

"If I had thought about it, I would have given you a haircut," Minerva McGonagall said. "But there isn't time now. And I told you to wear the Tan Dress Robes. The ones that match your feathers."

"I'm sorry," Malcolm said, "but I'm only going to this party as an owl. I already promised I wouldn't change back for any reason. Why are you putting me through all of this?"

"Because I know you through and through, boy," McGonagall said. "You will do everything to keep your word, but something will happen, some perfectly good reason, and you will break your promise. You can count on that happening the same way you can count on the sun shining during the day."

"It doesn't always happen," Malcolm complained.

"You are right, and sometimes there is a solar eclipse," McGonagall said, "but I will see that you are prepared, just in case. Now, change those robes, and be quick about it. Rebecca Dutton is celebrating her first birthday with her new parents, and wants the owl who found them for her to be there. The Dutton live in the borderlands, so they are not that far away, but I want you to be there ON TIME."

*

"Is the window open?" Rebecca asked nervously.

"I'll check again, `Becca," her father said, "Yes, it's still open."

"Your friend isn't even due for another half hour, honey," Mrs. Dutton said, "Don't worry about it."

"Maybe he got eaten," Mikey said, "that would be great. They might not find the body for years."

"Michael," Mrs. Dutton said, "That wasn't very nice."

"It's better than saying he just didn't show up," Mikey said with a pout.

"Watch out," Mr. Dutton called out, as a half-grown tawny owl flew through the open window and dropped a small package on the table. It then flew to a chair to perch, and nuzzled an ear when Rebecca came to pet him. The Duttons were amazed at how much torture the owl could withstand as six eight-year-olds ganged up on him.

It was a wonderful party. Malcolm would interfere with the other children, so that Rebecca would win at musical chairs. And Rebecca loved the chocolate mouse that Malcolm gave her. Even Mikey admitted that he was the best owl ever. Then, Professor McGonagall's prediction came true.

Rebecca was blowing out the candles on her cake. Just before she did, she looked at Malcolm and said, "I wish you were a real boy so I could give you a real hug." She turned around, and blew out all eight candles, and the other children gasped and pointed.

The girl turned around, and saw a handsome boy of twelve standing there. "Are you real?" she asked.

"Real enough for a hug," Malcolm said, as he knelt down to be at the same height.

*

"I told you, Albus," McGonagall said, "He'll find a way every time."

"Of course, I believe you, Malcolm," Albus said, "but what will you do three years from now, if she comes to Hogwarts. We can't make you sleep in the owlery, just to amuse just one little girl."

"I assure you, it would amuse more than just one little girl," McGonagall said.

"I'm sorry, Sir," Malcolm said, "It won't happen again."

[They don't have to laugh like that.]

"I believe you, Malcolm," Albus said with a wide grin. Then he added, "Before you go, I am curious. From whom did you get tonight's detention?"

"Professor Flitwick, Sir. He doesn't like the fact that I refer to Professor Binns as the dead guy."

As Malcolm left, Minerva turned to Albus and asked, "how did you know he had detention tonight."

"I didn't," Albus said, "since it was Malcolm, I merely made an obvious assumption."

*

As Malcolm walked to the detention room, he noticed Argus Filch cleaning someone's spilled potion of the floor. Then he thought about what Dumbledore said about not being the 'old guy' that Reese had mentioned. He turned down the corridor toward Filch.

"Excuse me, Mr. Filch," Malcolm asked politely, "would you be considered old?"

Argus Filch looked up, and said, as politely as possible, "Malcolm, if you do not leave this instant, I will personally undertake an effort to forget the ban on chaining students to the dungeon walls, and then I will misplace the key after I lock you in."

"Thank You, Sir," Malcolm said, as he quickly left.

*

"Dennis, what are you doing here?" Malcolm asked, as he walked into detention.

"Professor Binns gave me detention. He doesn't like the fact that I refer to Professor Flitwick as the short guy."

[I can relate to that.]

"Oh, Malcolm, what a surprise," Professor Snape said as he walked in, "I was told how you and your associate like making up new names for the teachers. I have the perfect task for such creative minds. Sit here and watch this pot of water until it boils."

"There's no flame underneath the pot, Sir," Malcolm said.

"Then you will probably be sitting there for quite a while," Snape said.

After detention was over, Malcolm walked over to the Potions Professor and asked, "Would you be considered old?"

"Malcolm, I've spent the last two hours with you. I feel ancient. But the answer is no. Now, Go Away."

*

"I must say, Malcolm, you have a good memory for dates," Professor Binns said, "but you still have a problem drawing comparisons. It should be obvious why the Goblin Revolts are linked to the Collapse of the Byzantium League."

"But they happened 150 years apart," Malcolm said.

"You need to learn more than facts, Malcolm. You have to develop the ability to understand that there is a why, as well as a what." Professor Binns looked at the boy sitting in front of him, and asked, "Is that girl still bothering you?"

"No," Malcolm said, "that was over a month ago. I got this problem I'm trying to work out, and my brother Reese said to ask either Peeves or the old guy about something. Peeves laughs at me, and to make matter's worse, Dumbledore says he knows who the old guy is, but he won't tell me."

"I was rather old when I died," Professor Binns offered, "you could try asking me."

"Thanks, Professor, but you're already dead. It couldn't be you."

Professor Binns gave the boy a ghostly smile and said, "Good Luck, then, in your search, Malcolm. I'm sure that if you look at the problem properly, the answer will be as easy to find as the nose on your face."

"Thanks for your confidence, Professor," Malcolm said, and he gathered his belongings and left for his next class.

In the empty classroom, Professor Binns said, loudly, "As easy to find as the nose on your face." Making the appropriate gestures, he began saying, "Nose, Face. Nose, Face . . . "

Peeves, floating in the corner, began laughing while flipping over end to end.

*

"Hello, Mom," Francis said into the phone.

"Mom is not here, this is Nob," a frightened voice said.

"What's wrong, Nob? Did anything happen?"

"Nob did something wrong,"

"I did something wrong," Francis corrected.

"What did Francis do?" Nob asked.

"Francis did nothing, I mean, I did nothing. Nob, don't you know anything about pronouns?"

"House Elves do not use pronouns, Only people do." Nob explained.

"Didn't Mom tell you that you were a person?" Francis asked.

"Yes," Nob said in confusion.

"Okay, now, what did you do wrong."

"Nob ate . . . "

"Excuse me," Francis said, "Who ate?"

"Uh . . . I . . . ate," Nob said with nervous excitement. "I ate some ice cream. Dewey said we could. Then . . . he . . . told . . . me . . . we . . . weren't allowed to. Nob used three pronouns in one sentence!"

"That's great, Nob," Francis complemented, "and you don't have to pause between words like that. Nob, let me explain what happened. Dewey lied to you, so that you could be blamed for eating the ice cream."

"It will spoil my dinner," Nob said.

"No, you'll just eat less." Francis said, "I can get you out of this, Nob, but you have to lie."

"Nob cannot lie," Nob said with horror.

"Of course you can," Francis assured him. "People lie all the time. You're a person, so that means you can lie. And don't forget to use pronouns."

"I . . . cannot lie," Nob said.

"Yes you can," Francis said, "In fact, You just did. You lied to yourself."

"Nob can lie?" Nob asked in wonder.

"Try it," Francis suggested, "All you need to do is practice. What color shirt are you wearing?"

"Blue," Nob answered, "with squiggly lines on it."

"I remember that shirt," Francis said, "That was my favorite shirt when I was your age. I didn't know Mom still had it. Nob, tell me you are wearing a red shirt."

"Nob . . . sorry . . . I . . . will be right back."

"No, Nob, Don't go and put on a red shirt, just tell me that you're wearing a red shirt."

"I can't," Nob cried.

"Yes you can," Francis said, "let's try it one word at a time. Say 'My'."

"My."

"Shirt."

"Shirt."

"Is."

"Is."

"Red . . . C`mon Nob, say it . . . Red . . . it's only a word. Say it . . . Red . . . Red . . ."

"R-Red," Nob said, almost in tears.

"You did it, Nob. You told your first lie. You're practically part of the family now. All you have to do now is wait until Mom confronts you. Just tell her you know nothing about it. Do you understand?"

"Yes," Nob said excitedly, "I understand. I will lie like you told me. Thank You, Francis, Thank You."

Nob hung up the phone in a state of excitement. Francis had told him. He was almost part of the family. All he had to do was to tell a lie. And after he told the lie, he would try out that precious word he had learned. MOM.


	22. The Next Chapter

CHAPTER 23: THE NEXT CHAPTER 

"Good Morning, Malcolm," Hermione said, frostily.

"Are you still mad at me about the house elf?" Malcolm said as he looked up from his breakfast. "I told you it wasn't my fault."

"We have nothing to talk about," Hermione said, as she walked past.

"What would you like me to do?" Malcolm yelled after her, "Do you want me to adopt him. Will that make you happy?"

"I don't know why she's upset," Ginny said, "He looked cute in the picture they sent."

"Yeah," Malcolm admitted, "but things are getting weird at my house. According to my Mom, Francis taught the house elf to lie."

"Is Francis home now?" Neville asked.

"No, apparently he gave lessons over the phone. Mom's furious about the phone bill."

"Could we talk about something else other than Malcolm's house elf?" EJ asked, "I hear this argument every morning."

The owls swooped in with the morning mail, and Malcolm picked up the letter placed by his hand. Ron Weasley scowled as he picked up his own letter from the butter dish.

"Hermione will love this," Malcolm said as he read the letter.

"Let me guess," EJ said, "Your family IS going to adopt Nob."

"No way," Malcolm said, "They only want legal custody, so they can send him to school."

"What's wrong?" EJ asked as Malcolm's face became confused.

"Well," Malcolm said, "The Government wants to take Nob away, because he told a lie."

"Isn't that a little harsh?"

"It seems that house elves don't lie. Since Nob lied, there must be something wrong with him." Malcolm looked down for a minute, then got up and walked toward the teachers table, where Professor McGonagall was sitting. EJ thought for a minute and walked over to where Hermione Granger was sitting, with Harry Potter and Ron and Ginny Weasley.

"Hermione," EJ said, "I need a favor. I need to know if any house elf has ever lied."

"Nob," Hermione said, harshly, "after all, he is Malcolm's house elf."

"Hermione," EJ said, "I need a favor. I need to know if any other house elf has ever lied."

"House elves don't lie," Ron said, wryly, "At least the ones that stay away from Malcolm and his family."

Ignoring Ron's remark, Hermione said, "Probably, if one house elf can lie, then other house elves can lie. But, why would you want to find a house elf who lied."

"It's for Malcolm," EJ explained, "Malcolm's parents want to have legal custody, but the government says that Nob is abnormal, because he lied, and he should be taken away."

"You're joking?" Hermione said in surprise.

"About which part?" EJ asked.

"Both parts," Hermione said, "it sounds like a demented soap opera."

"A what?" Ron asked, "Never mind. It's probably a muggle thing. Hermione, if you're looking for a lying house elf, just find one that has spent time with Malcolm. I swear it will work."

Hermione scowled as Ron and Harry laughed.

"Dobby would be an excellent choice," Ginny said, "especially after last year."

"What do you mean?" Ron asked, smirking at Hermione because he managed to ask the question first.

"I shouldn't tell you this," Ginny said, in a conspiratorial whisper, "but remember last year, when Hagrid kept complaining that Buckbeak wouldn't eat. Malcolm talked Dobby into sneaking muffins out to the hippogryph after dark. Buckbeak wasn't eating because he was already full."

Ginny and EJ started laughing, but the three older Gryffindors simple stared at them. "Cor," Ron said, "I was right about Malcolm. Dobby told us that he only started working at Hogwarts a couple of months ago."

*

"You are going to be late for classes," Dumbledore said, as the Gryffindors walked up to where he was talking with Malcolm and Professor McGonagall.

"But Professor, we found the answer," Hermione said, "we know how to prove that Nob is normal."

Dumbledore smiled, and asked, "How?"

"We need Dobby," Ginny said, "We think we can prove that he lied."

"Do you see, Professor," Hermione said, "Nob is free and he lied. Dobby is free and he also lied."

Albus cast a spell with his wand, and said, "Marvelous thinking Miss Granger. Something that happens once is an aberration. If it happens twice, it is merely unusual."

"Dobby is here," Dobby said, "Dobby heard you call him."

"Thank you, Dobby," Dumbledore said, "I need to ask you three questions, if you don't mind."

"Dobby will answer a thousand questions," Dobby said happily.

"Very well, I must first ask you if you have ever lied about anything, or if you know of any house elf that has ever lied?"

"No, Professor Dumbledore Sir," Dobby said, "A house elf does not lie. A house elf cannot lie. Dobby has told Dumbledore that."

"Yes, you have, Dobby. My second question is this. Do you remember when it was that you came to Hogwarts?"

"Yes, Sir, Mr. Dumbledore, Sir. It was after Friend Harry Potter tricked my master into freeing me."

"My last question is this," Albus said, pointing at Harry, "when did you tell Harry Potter that you started working here?"

Dobby looked at Harry, who had his arms crossed, and froze in his tracks.

After a long silence, Hermione Granger said, "We already know the answer to that question. Why don't you tell us why you lied, Dobby?"

Dobby looked from face to face. A look from Dumbledore told him there was no use in running. Finally, he said, "Dobby was ashamed. Dobby is free. Dobby can do whatever Dobby wants, and Dobby runs to Friend Harry like Dobby is still owned."

"We wouldn't have thought any less of you, if you had told us the truth," Harry said to the cowering elf. "Personally, I'm honored that you thought so much of me, that you wanted to come here."

"Friend Harry is a good friend," Dobby said, trying to smile.

"This changes the entire situation, " Dumbledore said, "I'll need to get written statements from the three of you, so I can forward them to the Department of Magic. That should take care of things."

[That was cool. I went from major problem to problem solved, and I didn't do anything.]

*

"I liked your remark to Dumbledore," Harry said to Ron as they left the headmasters office.

"The one about Malcolm being contagious?" Ron asked. "I thought it was a good line, as well."

"I want to know," Hermione said, "why Dumbledore said it was a good thing."

  
  



	23. What a Long Strange Trip It's Been

A/N: I want to say thank you, once again, to everyone who is reading this. I also appreciate the comments that I received on chapter 20. It is difficult to have a serious funeral in the middle of what is supposed to be a comedy. In case anyone else was interested, about Harriet's question (I had e-mailed her with it), the password, Requiescat, is from the Latin phrase "Requiescat En Pace" or "Rest in Peace."

  
  


If I may respond to Mandraco, (of course I can, I'm the author, I can do anything) I think Albus was teasing them, but that's only my opinion.

  
  


I would also like to thank Pam Briggs for your review. I'm assuming you liked watching Malcolm. Hopefully, I have added more than one new fan to my favorite show. (My wallpaper [on the computer of course] is a MITM scene downloaded off the BBC website.)

  
  
  
  
  
  
CHAPTER 24: WHAT A LONG STRANGE TRIP IT'S BEEN 

"And you are?" Spangler asked.

"Francis, Sir. I'm new here."

"Don't worry, cadet. We'll have you whipped into shape in no time," the Commandant told him, emphasizing every other word by poking Francis in the chest with his hook.

"He still doesn't remember you," Stan whispered.

"This is disgusting," Francis said, as Spangler walked away, "but I'm almost out of here."

"Free for the summer," Stan mused.

"No, free permanently," Francis said, smugly. "Do you remember Andy, who left because he was eighteen?"

"You're not eighteen, Francis,"

"No, but I had myself legally declared an adult."

"Don't you need your parents' permission for that?"

"Just their signatures," Francis explained, "and Malcolm is an excellent forger when it comes to that."

"When are you leaving?" Stan asked.

"Let me put it this way, Stan. It was nice knowing you, and I promise to write."

*

"No wonder the owls couldn't deliver this letter," Malcolm thought to himself as he flew over Greater London, "I can't even tell where this person is."

With difficulty he landed at the right address, but the name on the mailbox was wrong. He looked around, saw no one watching, and changed back.

"Excuse me," he asked a young girl skipping rope in the street, "I was looking for Jeffrey, but he doesn't seem to live here anymore."

"You're dressed funny," the girl said, looking at his robes, "His dad got a promotion six months ago, and they moved. You're a Yank. Why are you dressed like that?"

"I'm in the church choir," Malcolm said, "Do you know where they moved to?"

"Mum said they went Down Under," the girl said, "What church?"

"One in the States," Malcolm said, "and thanks."

"You're welcome, Yank," the girl told Malcolm. As he walked away, she shouted after him, "You're in the wrong country, you know?"

[Okay, the owl didn't deliver the invitation to Hogwarts because this kid moved to Australia. The question is this: Should I return the letter to Dumbledore and explain what happened, or should I try to deliver it.]

*

"They're asking questions," Professor McGonagall said.

"The tracking spell is working without any problems," Dumbledore answered, "Malcolm is fine, and we know exactly where he is."

"You knew he would do this," Minerva admonished.

"I was curious," Albus said, "Malcolm has an independent streak, and it helps to give him plenty of leeway."

"That is nonsense, and you know it, Albus Dumbledore. I only want to know why you gave him such freedom."

"I assure you, Minerva, the principal reason was that he would be safe. And we are learning from Malcolm about the Owls. Things that we take for granted. I am surprised that he did not take longer to complete the task."

"Then he is on his way back?"

"He should arrive in the morning."

*

On the morning of June 22, a group of Gryffindors sat at breakfast in the Great Hall talking about the one person that was missing.

"It's been five days," EJ said, "and he still hasn't shown up."

"I know," Amber Dowling added, "a couple of Slytherins in our potions class even asked me, politely, if I knew anything."

"That is strange," Ginny admitted, "but I asked McGonagall and she told me not to worry. She knows what's going on, but she refuses to say anything."

"Maybe he's been expelled," Ron said hopefully.

"His trunk is still here," EJ pointed out, and grinned as Ron scowled.

"I know where Malcolm is," Hermione said suddenly, and pointed at the entranceway. Malcolm walked in, escorted by a middle-aged man in tan robes. He smiled at everyone as he was escorted past them on his way to the teacher's table.

*

"Excuse me," the man said, in a thick Australian accent, "I am assuming that you are Professor Dumbledore."

"I am, indeed," Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling as he greeted the stranger.

"I believe I have one of your students. He wandered into our school by mistake, and couldn't find his way back."

"I can explain, Sir," Malcolm said.

"I'm sure you can, Malcolm," Dumbledore said with amusement, "but you are interrupting the conversation." He turned to the man before him, and said, "Welcome to Hogwarts, Sir, and we thank you for returning Malcolm. He tends to lose his way quite frequently. And you are?"

"My apologies. I am Justin Parker, Assistant to the Dean at Unseen University, Alice Springs, Australia. It seems your young animagus flew into our dining hall and delivered a letter to one of our new students. It was a surprise, for all of us."

"We were testing Malcolm's abilities as an owl." Dumbledore explained. "It appears that he was a bit enthusiastic. He should have realized that the letter did not need to be delivered."

"He was disappointed that we didn't say 'G'Day, Mate' all the time," Parker said, "but other than that, he was a perfect gentleman."

"That is a surprise," Professor McGonagall commented.

[They're laughing at me again.]

*

"What was it like?" Ginny asked, as they all gathered in the common room.

"The Unseen University. It was really strange. All of the buildings looked like they grew right out of the rocks. The weirdest thing they had was the school tower. From bottom to top it's about twenty feet tall."

"That's not much of a tower," Hermione laughed.

"That's what I thought," Malcolm said, "But from top to bottom it's at least a half-mile."

"What?" said just about everyone.

"Yeah," Malcolm said, "It seems that the tower is higher at the top than it is at the bottom. You walk inside, you climb a flight of stairs, and you are as high as if you were standing on a mountaintop. They used to use a ladder until recently."

"I want to see that," Hermione said, beating everyone else to the punch.

"Professor Parker," Malcolm said with a grin, "is staying to watch the Tournament, and while he's here, he and Dumbledore are going to discuss setting up a student exchange program."

"That will be interesting," EJ commented, "Malcolm said that they start their school year in the fall, which is spring for us."

"They'll send us down for summer vacation," Hermione said smugly, "That would make the most sense. Anyone who wants to, can give up a month of summer for a month of winter. I'd do it just to climb that tower."

"I should warn you," Malcolm said, "it does get cold up there."

"I have to ask you," Hermione said, "Why didn't you realize that you didn't have to deliver that letter? I thought you would have been smarter than that."

"Have you ever been to Australia?"

"No."

"I have."

[Okay. Everyone is laughing, and Hermione is rolling her eyes. I think I've got their attention.]

"I have to find an excuse, so I can go back there in October," Malcolm told everyone, "That's when they have the annual boat race."

"They have a boat race in the middle of the desert?" EJ asked.

*

"Excuse me, Professor Parker," Ginny said as she, and several other Gryffindors intercepted the Australian visitor, "Malcolm has been telling us some things about Alice Springs, and we wanted to know if something was true."

"It's the tower, I'll bet," Parker told them. "Yes, it is true."

"No, Sir," Hermione interrupted, "Malcolm claims you have a boat race every year."

"That would be the Henley-On-Todd Regatta," Parker said.

"Regatta?"

"Sorry, I said that just for fun," the professor said with a laugh, "but we do have the boat race every year, unless it rains."

"I don't think we follow you," Hermione said.

"You can't have a boat race if there's water in the river," Parker pointed out, as his grin grew wider.

"Is it something to do with the magic that you use," Neville asked.

"Actually, It's a muggle thing," Parker explained, "I guess you'll have to come down and see for yourselves."

*

"Um, Sir," Gregory Goyle asked.

"Yes, Mr. Goyle," Dumbledore said, "I will add you to the list."

"The list, Sir? Then I'm not the only one to ask about the exchange program?"

"It has only been one day since Malcolm returned," Dumbledore said with a grin, "and already more than twenty students have asked about the program. I do have to tell you, Mr. Goyle, that the program doesn't even exist, yet. You will have to wait until next year at the least."

Albus Dumbledore and Severus Snape watched as the Slytherin student walked off. "I didn't realize this exchange program was so popular," Professor Snape said, "How are the teachers reacting to the idea?"

"I've added your name to the list, Severus."

"Thank you, Albus."

  
  
  
  
  
  


  
  



	24. The Third Task

A/N: For those of you who are curious, The Unseen University is not the same one as the UU in Ahnk-Morpock. It is based on the university on continent XXXX in Terry Prachett's "The Last Continent," which is clearly the discworld's version of Australia. By the way, the Henley-on-Todd boat race is real, and has been cancelled twice in the past five years because of rain. Incidently, it rains in Alice Springs an average of three times a year.  
  
  
  


CHAPTER 25: THE THIRD TASK 

"Malcolm," someone called out as the young Gryffindor came out of the Great Hall. Malcolm Baddock came running up to him, almost out of breath. "I came to find you. Something has happened."

[Tell me you've been expelled.]

"Osgoode sent me a message, and told me to find you," Baddock said, "It has something to do with the last seminar we went to. He wants to see the two of us in Hogsmeade right away."

"Does Dumbledore know about this?" Malcolm asked warily.

"He's the one who gave me the message," Baddock said, pulling a parchment out of his robes. "And a pass, in case we're stopped by any of the teachers. He also wants us back before the Tournament begins, or we won't be here next year."

"What's going on," Professor Moody asked, as he walked up to the two students. He took the parchment from Baddock and read it. Handing it back, he said, "The faster the two of you get there, the faster you'll get back. It must be important, if Osgoode came here himself, and Dumbledore gave his approval." He looked at Malcolm with his glowing magical eye, and added, "You, in particular. I want you to go straight to Hogsmeade, and straight back."

[Of course, I'll come straight back. Is it my fault that the shortest way is right past Zonko's Joke Shop.]

*

"Neville," Ginny asked, "I'm looking for Malcolm. Have you seen him?"

"Not since breakfast," Neville said, "He should be back shortly, though."

"I'm going to check one more place," Ginny said, "If you find him, let him know I'll be in the library, or on my way back here."

"You're spoiled," Neville said, "having Malcolm fly up and save the good seats all the time."

"Then tell me why you aren't waiting at the maze to get good seats."

"Because I'm spoiled, too. That's why I'm waiting here for Malcolm."

*

"He wasn't at the library," Ginny said, "I'm getting worried."

"Don't be," Fred told her, "Malcolm's probably up to something. He'll show up in his own time, and his own way.

"It's at the Quidditch Pitch, anyway," George added, "we'll all be in the towers, so there won't be any bad seats. Besides, Malcolm is probably going to be sitting with Hedwig, anyway."

Mollified, Ginny told her brothers, "save me a seat, then. I'm going to get a couple of things first."

As Ginny came down the stairs, she saw Neville still waiting, and smiled. Neville could barely pass as a wizard, but he always made high marks as a gentleman.

"I thought you would like someone to walk with." he said, "If you do have a bad seat, at least you'll have good company."

Neville laughed as Ginny turned a light pink. He could always make her blush. He was about to say something else, when an owl flew into the common room. It perched on a chair, then looked around as though it was confused. Then it held out its leg to Ginny, and she removed the letter.

"It's from Francis," Ginny said. "He's Malcolm's brother."

"Why is he writing you?"

"He isn't," Ginny said, "It's written to Malcolm." Suddenly, she gasped. "It's a warning."

Neville watched as Ginny read through the entire letter. She passed it to him, not saying a word. He took the paper and read:  
  


Malcolm,

If you are reading this letter, then I'm not too late. If someone tells you that Osgoode wants to see you, it is a lie. He can't warn you directly, and came to me. Things are happening that are too important to joke about. Get to the headmaster, right away. All I know is that one of the teachers is a spy, and there is some kind of plot. If it's any relief, you're not the main target, but Osgoode says that you'll know who is. I've already left the academy, so don't try to contact me. I've also warned Mom and Dad.

Francis  
  


PS: If Ginny or Draco reads this, then I was too late. You should know what to do, I hope.  
  


The two students ran out of the common room, and down the halls towards the main doors. As they exited, both came to a halt, as they almost ran into Professor Moody.

"What is with the two of you," Moody said harshly, "You still have plenty of time to get to the tournament. You almost knocked me over, along with the Trophy Cup. How would it look if the winner picked up a dirty trophy?"

"Sorry," Ginny mumbled, "but Malcolm is in trouble."

"Malcolm is always in trouble," Moody said.

They showed him the letter from Francis, and he read it carefully. "So Osgoode is one of the good guys," he mused. "That is a very useful thing to know."

Moody looked at the two Gryffindors, with what was supposed to be a reassuring smile, and told them, "Malcolm's brother is right, the letter did come too late. But I want the two of you to know that the matter has already been taken care of. Malcolm is safe, although he has to talk to some important people first. As for the rest of it, You'll be hearing about this 'plot' after the Tournament."

"Then everything is fine?" Ginny asked in relief.

"Everything is more than fine, little lady," Moody said. "I've always told you, 'Constant Vigilance,' and, in this case, it has payed off. The two of you go on and get you seats, while I put the trophy in place. I'll show this letter to Dumbledore directly, if you don't object."

"Thanks, Professor," Ginny said, giving him an impulsive hug.

"Watch the trophy," Moody said with mock severity, "Now get going, or the third task will never start."

*

"It's about time," George said, "do you know how hard it is, trying to save two seats."

"Did you find Malcolm," Fred asked.

"Yes and no," Ginny said as she sat down, "Malcolm got into trouble again, but everything is all right. Dumbledore is going to explain it after the Tournament is over."

"It sounds serious," Hermione said.

"It is," Neville interjected, "but Moody says it all worked out. It seems that friends of You-Know-Who were planning something against Harry, but they were stopped."

"That's the best news I've heard all year," Ron shouted, "Now. I can honestly enjoy watching Harry compete."

*

"I don't believe it," Hermione said, "as Fred related what he saw though the Omniculars. He passed them over, and Hermione watched as Harry stopped Victor Krum with a stun spell. He had been casting the Crucio curse on Cedric Diggory. There was a general sigh of relief, when red sparks showed one of the champions in trouble.

"That isn't like him," Hermione said, "Viktor would never do anything like that."

"Well, he did," Fred snapped back, "We both saw it up close."

"Then, something is wrong," Hermione insisted, and a chill ran through the group.

No one was smiling anymore, as they strained to watch the remaining contestants move through the maze below. Hundreds were watching from above, as Cedric Diggory helped a limping Harry Potter to his feet. Murmurs of approval ran through the crowd as they approached the Trophy Cup together.

"No one will laugh at Hufflepuff, now," said a fifth year student from that house.

"No one ever did," George said to her, and they both smiled.

The shouting began immediately. Both Hogwarts Champions had grabbed the Cup at the same time, and both had promptly disappeared.

Almost immediately, the judges were apparating into the maze, and a few of the teachers had mounted brooms and were flying over the former Quidditch Field, and then over the surrounding area in ever increasing circles. Most of the spectators stayed glued to their seats, knowing only that this was not supposed to have happened.

"Moody!" Ginny said, suddenly realizing something. "He said everything would be fine."

"He must hate himself, right now," Fred told her, "The cup must have been a portkey. And they managed to get it past him."

"No they didn't," Neville said, in a serious tone, "Moody carried the Trophy Cup into the maze. They didn't get it there past him, they got it there through him."

"Moody's the spy?" Ginny asked in disbelief.

"He said he was good at his job," George said in disgust, "Now we know what his job was."

"They're back," Hermione cried in joy and relief, as two figures reappeared in the maze, then they noticed that one of the figures wasn't moving.

In a rush, all six of them tried to get out of the tower, but other people had the same idea, that it took much longer than they had hoped. By the time any of them could find a teacher, it was already over.

"Dumbledore is taking care of things right now," Madam Hooch assured them, " and I do know how you feel. All of us found out the truth, too late. The poor boys."

"Madam Hooch," Ginny said impatiently, "It wasn't only Harry. Malcolm is missing."

"How long has he been missing?"

"We last saw him at breakfast," Neville explained, "but Professor Moody told us that Malcolm was fine, that he needed to talk to some important people first."

"Go to your common room and wait there," Madam Hooch demanded as her face paled, "that way we know where to find you. Dumbledore will want to talk to you. I know that." She grabbed her broom and flew the short distance to the Castle, then threw it away as she ran inside.

The six students walked silently back to the tower, their numbers growing as others joined them. As they set around the common room, some students began to talk, but most waited in silence. It was late when Madam Hooch appeared, pale and angry.

"Harry Potter is going to be fine," She told the students who were still up. "Mr. Longbottom, and Miss Weasley, Professor Dumbledore wants to talk to you is you are up to it. And I am asking the rest of you to try to sleep. There is nothing you can do at this point."

*

"If only I had known about Malcolm earlier," Dumbledore said, "I had Crouch in my hands. I could have made him tell me."

"Albus, you did all that you could," McGonagall said.

Neville and Ginny sat quietly in their chairs. This was not the Professor Dumbledore that they knew. This was an angry man, who was fully capable of doing anything.

"Professor," Madam Pomfrey said, as she entered the room, "You need to come to the infirmary."

"Is it Harry?" He asked in sudden concern.

"Harry is fine," Madam Pomfrey said, "A pair of Slytherin students brought Malcolm Baddock in. He appears to be suffering from the long term effects of the Imperious Curse."

Without saying a word, Dumbledore left his office with the school nurse. The two students stared at each other, then at Professor McGonagall.

"What happened?" Ginny asked with a quivering lip.

"I won't lie to you," Professor McGonagall told her, "Albus has already decided to reveal everything, anyway." She paused, then said, in a steady voice, "Voldemort has returned." She paused again, then added, "He killed Cedric Diggory, and he almost killed Harry Potter. He managed to replaced one of our teachers, Professor Moody, with a spy, and, through him, lured them into a trap. Apparently Malcolm was lured into the trap as well, and you know as much as I do about Baddock. There is a great deal more to tell, but that is the heart of the matter."

"Can the spy tell you what happened to Malcolm?"

"The spy is dead."

"Then, what about Malcolm?"

"I don't know, dear. We can only hope."

"He'll be fine," Neville said with a cheerfulness he didn't feel. "Malcolm is like a cat, he always lands on his feet. He'll probably walk into the Great Hall tomorrow and tell us what Paris was like."

Ginny laughed at the thought, and gave Neville a hug in thanks.

"I'll take the two of you back now," McGonagall said, with a thin smile, "It is getting late, and you don't want to miss Malcolm when he shows up. It's almost dawn, as it is."

*

"How are the two of you doing," Hermione asked as Ginny and Neville entered the common room

Ginny nodded and sat down in front of the fireplace. Neville looked at Hermione and shrugged his shoulders. "She's worried about Malcolm. Ginny always thought of him as a little brother, and . . . it's hard on her."

"Maybe he's hiding," Hermione said, "He's done that before when he's been scared."

"Nice try," Ginny said sarcastically, "but where could he hide, that no one would find him. McGonagall told me that they've already searched the school."

"For a student," Hermione said, "but they may not have realized that they're dealing with an animagus. I'm not saying I'm right, but it might be worth a try to look in the owlery."

Ginny was already on her feet, and Neville was thanking Hermione for her quick thinking. Hermione gave him a smile, and said lightly, thinking of a beetle she had recently captured, "I have experience in finding animagi. Of course, I would think of it. Let's go."

*

"How is everyone doing, Poppy," Albus Dumbledore asked.

"Potter is fine," Madam Pomfrey said. "Malcolm Baddock is also fine, physically at least. You can talk to him as soon as he wakes up." She turned to the headmaster, and asked, "Albus, how are you?"

"It's been a long night, and it isn't over yet. Our young animagus is still missing. I've tried to contact his parents but I haven't received any answer. I'm waiting now for a reply from David Winter, with the American government. He promised to check on them, personally."

"You look tired."

"I am tired, Poppy, very tired. But I don't think I'll have a chance to rest for a while yet."

"You have time right now, Albus," Poppy said, pointing sternly to a bed, "I'll wake you immediately, if you are needed."

Dumbledore began to object until he saw the look on Madam Pomfrey's face. Giving her his first smile of the day, he lay down for a brief nap.

*

The three Gryffindors walked briskly to the owlery. It was a compromise, because Ginny was ready to run the entire way. As they entered, all of the owls were quiet, although only a few were asleep.

"You're the brains, Hermione," Neville said, "where do we look."

"He likes the rafters," Hermione said, "but Hedwig likes him, and I've seen them together several times. There's Hedwig." Hermione pointed out the snowy owl on her perch.

"And there's Sleeping Beauty," Neville said, as he spotted the smaller tawny owl curled under Hedwig's wing."

Ginny went over to the perch, and her face turned pale. "There's blood. Lot's of it."

"I'll get help," Neville said, as he sped from the room.  
  



	25. A Stroll Through The Park

CHAPTER 26: A STROLL THROUGH THE PARK 

"Do you know what any of this is about?" Malcolm asked, almost running to keep up with Baddock.

"Only what I've already told you," Baddock said, as he raced down the road to Hogsmeade.

"We don't have to run," Malcolm said.

"That's true," Baddock replied, "But we're expected back within a certain amount of time. The quicker we get there, the more time we have to get back."

[He's thinking of hitting the candy store, I bet.]

As they entered Hogsmeade, Baddock pointed between two buildings, saying, "He should be waiting there."

The two boys turned the corner of the building, and stopped. A wizard he did not recognize, was pointing his wand directly at Malcolm. "Which one of you is Malcolm," he asked.

"We both are," Malcolm said, uncertain as to what was going on.

"He is," Malcolm Baddock said.

"Good," the wizard replied, then called out, "Stupify."

Malcolm slumped to the ground, unconscious. As Baddock watched passively, the wizard pulled Malcolm onto his broom. Smiling at the young Slytherin he said, "Go back, and make sure you've covered your tracks."

Baddock returned to the school, as the wizard flew off to the south.

*

Malcolm awoke feeling stiff. He also found his hands tied with rope, and his head covered with a cloth. He could breathe easily enough, but he couldn't see anything.

Almost at once, he was raised to his feet. His hands were untied, and the cloth removed, and he stood facing a man in a mask. The man raised his mask, briefly, to reveal that he was Lucius Malfoy.

"Are you hurt, Malcolm?" Lucius asked with concern.

"I'm a little sore, but I'll be all right," Malcolm said. "What happened?"

"A fool of a man brought you here," Lucius said, letting his anger show, "and he was too stupid to ask you to come. I found out that you were here only minutes ago. Please accept my apologies."

Malcolm looked around and asked, "Why are we in a cemetery? And why are you wearing a mask?"

[I'm not sure what happened, but it looks like they just finished fighting a small war here.]

Cheerfulness made itself felt in Lucius's voice, as he said, "A wonderful thing has happened, Malcolm. The Master has returned. And he would like to talk to you."

[I've watched too many horror movies. When somebody tells you the master has returned, it is not a good thing.]

"Come, Malcolm," Lucius said, as he escorted the still shaky boy though the gravestones to a group of waiting men, also masked. "The first thing you must learn is never to keep our master waiting. The second thing you must learn is that he rewards loyalty. Lord Voldemort is thinking of letting you become one of us, and at your age. It is a great honor."

Malcolm froze when he heard that name. For the past two years, he had heard stories about Voldemort, and his Death Eaters, and the things that they had done. For the past two months, Draco Malfoy had been warning him that He Who Must Not Be Named was plotting his return. And now, Malcolm was to meet him, face to face.

"He doesn't seem too pleased to meet me," a cold voice said, from the crowd of Death Eaters.

"He is still surprised, Master," Lucius said assuredly, "He only needs some time to adjust."

"Don't patronize me, Lucius" Voldemort said sternly, "After what has happened, I am not in the mood."

The thin figure separated from the group and walked over to Malcolm with painful slowness. Malcolm swallowed hard, as he looked on the white upon white face, with blood red eyes. The figure stopped in front of him, and looked, almost leered, at him.

"You don't look happy to see me at all," Voldemort said. He held out his hand, the cold touch of his fingers raising the boy's chin up, forcing Malcolm to look him in the eyes.

"Don't you want it, boy?" Voldemort said, in a spellbinding voice, "I can give you everything. Money. Power. Prestige. Whatever you want, it can be yours. All you have to do is call me 'Master.'"

"I'd like to go now," Malcolm said fearfully.

"But I want you to stay," Voldemort said with menace. "If you want to leave, you have to leave with me. Do you understand?"

Malcolm nodded, then asked weakly, "Why me?"

"Why not," came the reply, "You have all of the qualities I like, including a strong will. You are also young enough to be trained properly in the Dark Arts. I'm offering you a great honor, Malcolm. You can be the first of my new students. I promise that I will teach you well."

[Do you want to know how I feel right now? Remember that poster of the hawk diving at the mouse. It was called The Last Great Act of Defiance. The mouse just stood there, with his finger raised.]

"Are you talking to me?" Malcolm croaked, as he tried to talk. Less boldly, he repeated, "Are you talking to me?"

"Robert DeNiro, Taxi Driver," Voldemort said, suddenly, then added mockingly, "Malcolm, you could have simply told me no. You didn't have to do a bad imitation of an old movie. I found that offensive."

"You watch movies?" Malcolm asked in surprise.

"I love the muggle cinema," Voldemort said, with an icy laugh, "It was one of my few diversions. Do you remember this one, Malcolm?" He pointed his wand at his hand, and a leather glove appeared on it, with knives attached to each of the fingers. "It's from a movie called Nightmare on Elm Street."

The Dark Lord grabbed Malcolm by his robes and lifted him off the ground. As he did this, he slashed his hand across the boy's chest, slicing the cloth, and cutting into the skin.

"Did that hurt?" Voldemort asked as the boy cried out. "No? Then tell me, does this hurt?" He brought the bladed hand across the boy's chest in the other direction.

[That mouse analogy was a good one, but I should have made him a cat.]

Malcolm caught his breath suddenly, as an idea came to him. Gasping out the words before he was cut again, he asked, "Did you ever watch the Three Stooges?"

"I don't believe I have," Voldemort said with amusement. "Why do you ask?"

"Just curious," Malcolm said, as he raised his arms above his head. Gravity caused him to fall through the remnants of his robes and onto the ground beneath. He pivoted, jumped into the air, and transformed into an owl, before Voldemort realized the trick.

"Avada Kedavra," the Dark Lord shouted angrily. The spell hit, instantly destroying the tombstone that Malcolm had flown behind, but Malcolm kept low, dodging between the tombstones and shrubs until he reached the trees at the edge of the cemetery, and was lost to pursuit.

"A stupid trick," Voldemort cursed, angrily, "and I fell for it. Why didn't anyone tell me he was an animagus?"

No one said a word. Finally Pettigrew admitted, "we thought you knew."

"It made all the papers," said one of the Death Eaters, probably Goyle.

Controlling his temper, The Dark Lord asked, "I know about the Imperious Curse. Is there anything else I should know about?"

"I think I told you about the moving staircases," Malfoy offered.

"And he entertains the children once a month at St. Mungo's," Nott added.

"Didn't Osgoode mention something about a doppleganger?" Pettigrew offered.

Voldemort smiled. "That gives me a wonderful idea, Wormtail. You have done me another service, today. MacNair, tell Osgoode that I need this boy, Renault."

"As you wish, Master," he said, and disapparated.

"Avery, We must teach the world a lesson now that I am restored. Contact our American comrades and have them kill Malcolm's family. Remind them to use the Dark Mark."

"I will take care of it, Master." Avery said, and he vanished.

"Master," one of the remaining Death Eaters asked, "What about the boy, Malcolm."

"It seems that Crouch was wrong," Voldemort said, "the boy cannot be manipulated as easily as he thought. But we don't have to worry about him anyway." The Dark Lord smiled as he looked at the bladed glove on his hand. "The poison should be working on him already. He will be dead within the hour." With a wave of dismissal he added, "It is time to go. I will contact you, when I need you again."

Popping noises were heard in the deserted cemetery, then there was silence, except for the lone hoot of an owl in the distance.

*

"I'm lost," thought Malcolm as he perched on the branch and tried to think. He was injured but he could still fly, but he had no idea where he was, and in which direction he should go. All he knew was that he could not stay there.

[Sometimes I am such an idiot. All I have to do is write a letter to somebody at school, then I can deliver the letter. All I need now is paper and ink.]

The tawny owl flew to the ground and changed back into human form, grunting at the pain. Malcolm took a few deep breaths, then pulled off his torn T-shirt, ripping a clean piece of cloth. Dabbing his fingers in the blood on his chest, he carefully wrote a short note: To A D Hi.

Malcolm transformed back into an owl and picked up the cloth with his beak. Flapping his wings to make sure they would still function, he then began flying North by North East, toward Hogwarts.

Shortly before dawn, an exhausted owl flew into the owlery, dropping the cloth it had held in its beak most of the night. It landed on a perch, and was immediately cozened by a white owl, as the others watched. Malcolm fell asleep, his head tucked under Hedwig's wing.

[Safe.]

*

Madame Pomfrey followed Neville Longbottom as he led her back to the owlery. She passed Hagrid on her way, and convinced him to follow her. What they found was not pleasant. Drops of blood led from the open balcony to the perch where Malcolm sat, supported by a worried Hedwig. More blood was on the floor beneath the perch. Hermione Granger stood there staring, while Ginny Weasley was almost in tears. Both looked up in relief when they saw her arrive.

"I'm here to help," Poppy said soothingly to Hedwig as she reached out for Malcolm. Hedwig hooted softly, expressing her concern, but do not try to stop her. Poppy picked up the tawny owl, expecting a reaction, but he didn't stir. She paused briefly, expecting the worst, but felt the heartbeat, and saw the wounds.

"I have to change him back," Madam Pomfrey said, and lay Malcolm on the floor. As she cast the restoration spell, Malcolm transformed back, and the injuries became evident. Eight cuts, four shallow and four deep, crisscrossed his chest. Poppy waved her wand, and muttered, "Whoever cut him used a poisoned blade." She looked at Hagrid and said, "I need you to carry him for me. We have to get him to the infirmary now. And don't bother being careful."

"But what if I hurt him," Hagrid asked.

"Then we'll heal the injury," Poppy said forcefully, "Right now, time is the most important factor. Hagrid, I do need you to RUN to the infirmary."

*

"That was a very short nap," Dumbledore said, as the commotion died down.

"I'm sorry fer all the noise, Professor Dumbledore, Sir," Hagrid said, "but it was necessary."

"I know, Hagrid, and I thank you," Albus said, "I only wish this day would get better. Poppy, how is Malcolm?"

"He should win an award for being the luckiest boy alive," Madame Pomfrey said, shaking her head. "After everything that happened he will live. Albus, he was poisoned. One of those wonderful poisons that take their time and kill you in an hour instead of a few minutes. Fortunately, It doesn't work on owls, and Malcolm spent almost all of the time he was poisoned as an owl. He also has a few bruised ribs, but nothing else that is serious."

"That is good news," Albus said, and smiled to the three students standing by the door. "I think the three of you should leave now, and I thank all of you, very much."

"This was on the floor near the perch," Ginny said, and held out the dirty piece of cloth.

Albus looked at it, and nodded solemnly. "That was a clever trick. He kept his wits about him."

"What is that?" Madam Pomfrey asked.

"A letter that Malcolm wrote to me," Albus said, "a rather grim letter, when you think of the materials used, but it showed him the way to get back to us."

*

"Harry's still asleep," Molly Weasley said, "I thought I'd take a look at Malcolm. Ginny dotes on him, you know."

"He's fine," Madame Pomfrey said, sadly, "He'll sleep until tomorrow morning at the least."

"That's wonderful," Molly said, "but why are you sad? What happened?"

Poppy looked over to Albus, and Molly followed her gaze.

"It was the reason Poppy ran into Hagrid," Albus said, slowly, "He had a message from America about Malcolm's family. Their house was found completely destroyed, with the dark mark glowing above it. There were no bodies, and no signs of any survivors."

"Of course not," Molly said, grinning, "They're at the Burrow." Molly laughed as she saw Albus Dumbledore sit there with his mouth wide open.

"Molly," Dumbledore said, "I am . . . impressed. How did this happen?"

"Surely Ginny told you about the letter that their eldest boy sent Malcolm. She told me that she did."

"Indeed, she did. The letter was still in Crouch's pocket when I checked."

"Lois called us through the fireplace and asked what to do. Arthur, bless his soul, told them to grab their necessary belongings and stay with him for a few days, since the rest of us were away. He told me about it, but said to keep quiet until we were sure who we could trust. If I had known what happened, I would have told you sooner."

Albus hugged Molly, beaming at her. "Thank You," he said softly, "and thank your husband for me as well. That is the best piece of news I've heard yet."

"You're making me blush," Molly said, laughing. Then Poppy took a turn to give Molly her hug and thanks, when Molly giggled.

"What is it?" Albus asked curiously.

"It's silly, really," Molly said, "I was thinking I should tell Ginny that at least the Death Eaters found the right house."

As Molly Weasley left the partitioned area, Madam Pomfrey gave a confused look to Professor Dumbledore, who shrugged his shoulders. Sometimes, it was best not to ask people to explain things.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


A/N: For those of you who don't remember, Molly is referring to her conversation with Draco at the Burrow. For those of you that do remember, I have just wasted 4 seconds of your time.


	26. Recovery

Chapter 27: Recovery 

"Good Morning, Malcolm," Madam Pomfrey said softly. "Are you hungry?"

"Thirsty," Malcolm said hoarsely, as he struggled to open his eyes. He felt himself being propped up in a sitting position, with plenty of pillows to keep him there.

"Orange juice," Pomfrey told him as she raised the glass to his lips, "drink it slowly."

Malcolm swallowed half the glass and spilled the rest, but he felt better. After a second glass, most of which made it to his mouth, Madam Pomfrey asked how he felt.

"Weak, mostly, and tired," he explained, "and it feels like my chest is on fire."

Madam Pomfrey gave him an elixir for the pain in his chest, then laid him down again. He was asleep in moments.

*

It was nighttime when Malcolm awoke. The first thing he noted was that the pajamas he was wearing were clean.

Molly Weasley was there, and she helped him into a sitting position again. She then forced him to have some broth, and as much juice as he could hold.

"Thank you," he said, when he was done.

"You're welcome," Molly said, "you can go back to sleep now."

"I'm not really tired," Malcolm said, "not enough to sleep, anyway."

"And you would like to here the gossip?" Molly asked, smiling.

"Yes, Please," Malcolm said, giving a weak smile of his own.

"Right," Molly said, "to start off, your family is fine. They're staying at my house until they can find a new place."

"What happened to our old one?"

"It seems that You-Know-Who didn't like the way you left him, and sent some friends to visit your folks, but they were already gone. At least that is what I think happened."

Malcolm nodded but he was slightly confused. "How did you know about that?"

"Malcolm Baddock told us how he led you into that trap," Molly said. Before Malcolm could react, she added, strongly, "Don't you go thinking badly about him. You're immune to the Imperious Curse, aren't you?"

"Yes," Malcolm admitted.

"Malcolm Baddock isn't," Molly said, and waited for Malcolm to understand. "As soon as he found himself free of the curse, he told us everything he could remember. He's worried about what you may think of him."

"Tell him I said thanks," Malcolm said. "Mrs. Weasley, could I ask you a favor, but it's not a nice one."

"Go ahead," Molly said, tonelessly.

"Could you tell him I said he should have been put in Gryffindor?"

"I will, I will," Molly said laughing, "I know it will make him feel better."

"Thanks again," Malcolm said, and rested his eyes for a minute.

*

The sun was out when Malcolm opened his eyes again. Albus Dumbledore was sitting by his bed, as though he was waiting for this moment.

"Madam Pomfrey will have some breakfast for you, shortly," the Headmaster told him. "You look much better than the last time I saw you."

"I think I feel better, too," Malcolm said, "at least I don't hurt as much."

[I know what's coming. He's going to ask me if I feel strong enough to talk, then he's going to ask me to tell him what happened.]

Madam Pomfrey brought Malcolm a tray, and placed it before him. Dumbledore waited patiently while Malcolm ate, then brought up the reason for his being there.

"I received your letter, Malcolm. I also appreciate the fact that you thought of me. Do you feel strong enough to talk?"

[Am I a genius or what?]

"I guess," Malcolm said with a smile.

Dumbledore returned the smile, and asked, "Do I need to ask the next question?"

"Did you know that Voldemort is a movie buff?"

Albus snorted at Malcolm's reply. "You are the most incorrigible boy I have ever met, Malcolm, and I do mean that in a good way."

"There is a good way to mean that?"

"Perhaps not," Dumbledore admitted, "but I am curious as to what happened to you after you were kidnaped, and why you were taken?"

"I'm guessing that you know about Voldemort having a body, again," Malcolm said. Dumbledore nodded, and Malcolm continued to talk.

"I was stunned by a spell before I was taken, and I woke up blindfolded with my hands tied. I think they revived me because Lucius Malfoy untied me, and apologized for what had happened."

"Are you sure it was Malfoy, Malcolm?" Dumbledore asked.

"He lifted his mask to show me his face. I think he wanted to make me feel better."

"Did it?"

"No, but it stopped me from freaking out. We were standing in a cemetery, but it looked like the middle of a war zone. Smoke in the air, a couple of small fires, tombstones looking as thought they'd been shot at." Malcolm looked at Dumbledore seriously and said, "You wanted to know why they took me? I think it was an afterthought. My guess was that everything was planned for someone else. And I'm also guessing that someone else was Potter."

"Voldemort used Potter's blood as part of the spell that restored him," Dumbledore said, grimly.

"Is Potter . . . "

"He's fine, Malcolm. He also managed to escape." Dumbledore studied the boy's face, then almost casually asked, "What did you mean when you said you were an afterthought?"

"It seems I went from Icing on the Cake to Consolation Prize," Malcolm quipped. "Someone thought that I should be there, as an extra treat. You know, the Dark Lord is restored to power, defeats his enemy, then greats the first of a new generation of . . . disciples. Professor, the idea was that Voldemort would start his own school. Malfoy probably told him I would be a perfect student."

"Grandiose plans for a newly restored demon," Dumbledore noted. "You are right, Malcolm. Voldemort was not overly concerned with you. But from what you are saying, I get the impression that he was not very upset that Harry Potter had escaped him."

"He seemed annoyed," Malcolm admitted, "but he wasn't distraught or anything. I didn't get the impression that he was angry about anything in particular."

Dumbledore smiled, and said conspiratorially, "I do like to see overconfidence in an adversary. It means he will make mistakes."

Albus stood up as Madam Pomfrey took away the empty tray. "Thank you for you time, Malcolm. I will want to talk to you later. You deserve to know, more fully, what happened that night, but you should know that your family is fine."

"Mrs. Weasley told me they were all at her place," Malcolm said, "but I meant to ask why Francis was there. I thought he would have disappeared instead. He told me that was what he was planning."

Madam Pomfrey almost dropped the tray right in Malcolm's lap. "He knew, Albus," she said in surprise and anger. "That boy knew all along."

Albus chuckled at the nurse's reaction. "There is always more to Malcolm than meets the eye, Poppy. I would be willing to bet Malcolm even knows where his missing brother is."

"I'm sorry, but I don't," Malcolm lied.

[That's not a complete lie. He told me where he was planning on going, but he's probably not there yet. Hey, that means I told the truth.]

"Professor," Malcolm called out as Dumbledore was leaving, "I was curious, who won the Tournament?"

"It was a tie," Dumbledore said as his smile disappeared.

Malcolm didn't dare ask another question.

*

"Are you ready?" Madame Pomfrey asked.

"For what?" Malcolm asked.

"The visitors are lining up," she said.

"How many are there?"

"Only one," Madam Pomfrey said with a mirthful grin, "but I do expect more, Once the word gets around. I have to ask you, however, if you want to see this particular visitor."

Malcolm looked over to the doorway and saw Draco Malfoy, standing there. Draco was pale, and very nervous.

"Hello, Draco," Malcolm said, reluctantly, and Draco walked quickly to the bed.

"I know what happened," Draco said softly. "Father was furious, when you refused the offer. It didn't help that I didn't want to go to a new school, either." He paused for a breath, then asked, "I have to know, are WE still friends, at least for now? I doubt that we can be for much longer anyway."

"At least for now," Malcolm said warily.

"Thank you," Draco said, and sat down on the bed. "I brought you something," he whispered, and held out a small wooden block, purple and red, covered with W's and wands.

Malcolm laughed as he reached for the block. Draco grabbed Malcolm in a bear hug, almost crushing, and told him, "I was afraid I would lose you. I don't ever want to lose you." Draco released him, and added, putting his hand on the block, "We're more than friends, we're brothers."

Malcolm looked at the block in his hand, and then at Draco's careworn face. "That's what they told me at Saint Mungo's, Draco SMYTHE."

The two boys laughed softly, then Draco got up to go. "I promised them I wouldn't stay long. I'll try to see you again, soon."

Malcolm watched as Draco left, and fingered the building block. He looked over to Madam Pomfrey, and she tried to smile. "I've just lost my best friend," he told her.

"You haven't lost him yet," Madam Pomfrey said.

"He won't go against his father," Malcolm said, "regardless of how he feels about me. The only reason Draco came, was to say goodbye."

*

Ginny and Neville stopped by to say hello, a short while after Draco left, but Malcolm was not in the mood to talk. They did not stay long. EJ came by with Amber Dowling (they always seemed to be together these days) but they did not stay long either. Dumbledore also stopped by, and talked with Madam Pomfrey, but he left without saying anything to Malcolm. It was shortly after he had eaten his lunch that Malcolm had an unexpected guest.

"I'm supposed to cheer you up," Harry Potter said, "but I'm not sure how to do that."

"You could say something bad about Weasley," Malcolm said in a cheap attempt at humor.

"He doesn't like your best friend," Harry said, "but then, no one does, except you."

"Then Ron should be happy. I don't have my best friend anymore. His father's mad at me."

"It had to happen," Harry told him, "If it helps you any, I am sorry to hear that." Potter held out his hand, and Malcolm looked at it, but did not take it.

"Please," Harry said, "we could be friends."

"It isn't you," Malcolm said, "I'm not in the mood to make any friends today."

"Sorry," Harry said as he put his hand down. "It is funny to think about now, but Malfoy once offered his hand to me, on the train. I was coming to Hogwarts for the first time. I refused to shake his hand."

"The same thing happened to me," Malcolm said, looking down, "and I took it."

"I've always wondered what would have happened if I did take his hand that day," Harry said, sympathetically.

"No, you don't," Malcolm said, a little too harshly, "but I can tell you what would have happened. Today, he would have walked up to YOU and said goodbye."

"I should go," Harry said, after a nervous silence.

"I'm sorry," Malcolm said, "Ask Dumbledore not to send anyone else to cheer me up."

"Dumbledore didn't ask me to come. Neville did."

"Neville?"

"He told me you needed someone to talk to, and I would be . . . "

"What is it?" Malcolm asked, when Harry suddenly stopped talking.

"I've been tricked," Harry said, "Everyone has been trying to talk to me, but . . . " Harry looked at Malcolm, his eyes moist, and said, "I lost a friend too. We weren't close, but we had each other's respect."

"What happened?" Malcolm asked, concerned.

"You don't know?" Harry asked in surprise. "You really don't know what happened at the Tournament?"

Malcolm shook his head. "I wasn't there, and I've been sleeping most of the time since I got back."

The two sat and talked comparing notes on what had happened. Harry smiled briefly when Malcolm mentioned the Three Stooges, but Malcolm received the brunt of the surprises.

[This guy is amazing. Think about it. He stayed and fought. All I did was think of a clever plan to run away.]

"Malcolm," Harry said, quietly, "I know why you didn't accept the offer of a new school. Lucius Malfoy was right when he said you had it in you, but he was wrong because you have more than that in you."

"Harry, it's because of lines like that, that everyone thinks you're a hero."

"A hero?" Harry said in surprise, "after what happened? What about the fact that Cedric is dead?"

"That's part of the problem, Harry. Everyone knows you would have saved him if you could."

Harry pondered the thought, then asked, "Malcolm, if I'm a HERO, then why doesn't everyone like me?"

Malcolm snorted, and answered, "You know the answer to that. There are always people who don't like heroes, and they're not all villains, either. Some of them are just people who wish they were the hero."

Malcolm leaned forward, his expression earnest. "Potter, things are going to change because of you, and you cannot do anything about it. Things will change. You can run and hide, you can fight until your last breathe, or you can stand aside and do nothing. Things will still change. But you should remember this, Harry, what you do will affect the way things change. That's what it means to be a hero." Malcolm smiled and added, "I'm very glad that you have that job, and not me."

Harry stared at Malcolm. "For a moment there, I would have sworn I was talking to Dumbledore."

[NO. I don't want to hear about that maturity stuff again.]

"I assume you meant that as a compliment," Malcolm said.

"I'm not sure," Harry said, and they both laughed.

*

"I am glad to see that you are feeling better," Severus Snape said, as he walked into the infirmary. He sat down in the vacant chair, and told Malcolm, "If you feel up to it, I would like to ask you a few questions."

"Of course, Professor. I'll be happy to answer anything I can."

"Thank you, Malcolm. If you could tell me, what are the three main uses of Asphodel?"

"Excuse me, Sir," Malcolm said in confusion, "Why are you asking me that?"

"It seems that with all of your trips here and there, you missed taking your Potions final. I came here to correct that." Severus Snape smiled, and repeated the question.


	27. The Mirror of Erised

A/N: This is to answer a couple of questions that reviewers have asked.

Mandraco was curious about Malcolm's third year. I won't be able to write that story properly until the next HP book comes out (which should be June 2003). If that is true you have at least a year to wait.

Harriet asked what Malcolm's surname is. I'm sure she isn't the only one to notice that I have never given his last name. (He does have one, by the way.) It is a running joke in the show, Malcolm in the Middle, that the family name is never mentioned. That is one facet I have been able to include in my stories. Some of the things on the show, such as Bernard rolling along in his egg once in every episode, can't be converted easily into the written form.

Kaylin wanted to know how Francis knew about Crouch, Jr. I must admit that he didn't. He was simply relaying a message. There is something significant there which will be revealed in Malcolm's third year, unless I change my mind.  
  


Chapter 28: The Mirror of Erised 

"He should be dressed by now," Madam Pomfrey said, as she led Albus Dumbledore into the infirmary. "There he is," she pointed out, "as though nothing had ever happened."

"Thank You, Poppy," Albus said, walking into the room. He was followed by a large floating object covered with a cloth. He settled the object into the corner of the room, and thanked the nurse as she left.

"You are looking well," Dumbledore commented.

"I feel fine," Malcolm said.

[Except for being extremely nervous.]

"Malcolm, would you care to take a simple test for me."

"How simple?"

"I want you to look into a mirror, and tell me, truthfully, what it is you see."

Malcolm nodded his head and said, "Sure. What's the catch?"

"Catch?" Dumbledore queried.

"Yeah, There must be some kind of trick to this mirror. Either that, or I'm having a really bad hair day and I don't know it."

Dumbledore smiled at the thought of bad hair, and replied, "This is a mirror which shows the person who looks into it what their greatest desire is, even if it is impossible for that desire to be achieved." Having said that, he removed the cloth, revealing the ornate mirror. "You can refuse if you wish, Malcolm. This is not something I would force upon you."

"I'll look," Malcolm said, and he stepped up to the mirror. "Oh my God," he said in amazement, as he grinned broadly.

"What do you see?" Albus asked the boy.

"Well, me, but I'm in regular clothes. And so is everyone else. That's Tom and Jeff, they were friends before I became a Krelbourne," Malcolm said as he started pointing people out. "That's Stevie in the wheelchair, right next to Draco. Ginny's over there with Neville, and . . ."

"What is everyone doing, Malcolm? I can't see them."

"They're doing nothing right now, but it looks like all of us took a break from, uh, doing normal things, You know, playing ball, talking about girls, normal stuff." Malcolm turned away from the mirror saying, "that's about it, really."

"I'm curious, Malcolm," Dumbledore said, "You don't seem to be enthralled by what you saw in the mirror. Why is that?"

"It's my mom," Malcolm explained. "I knew what I was seeing wasn't real when I saw her holding up a home made cake and smiling. If Mom ever baked a cake that came out even half that good, she wouldn't be smiling, she'd be doing cartwheels."

Dumbledore chuckled politely and covered the mirror again with the cloth.

"So, why the mirror?" Malcolm asked.

"Curiosity," Dumbledore said, "I thought that if I knew what your greatest desire was, I would understand you better. The truth is, Malcolm, ever since you began attending this school, you have always been a source of puzzlement. The irony is that I was right. I do understand you, now."

"And," Malcolm asked warily.

"It seems that the thing you most desire is to be normal," Dumbledore said with a smile, "a very simple desire. I don't know why I am surprised."

"What's wrong with wanting to be normal?"

"Nothing, to want to be normal is perfectly normal," Albus said. After a pause, he added, "I think I should start explaining things to you, however."

[Finally.]

"I'll try to explain as much as I can," Dumbledore said. "I should, perhaps, start at the beginning. Every year, we have all of the students take the train from Kings Cross Station to Hogwarts. This has a twofold purpose. For the older students, it acts as a period of adjustment, a chance to get used to going to school for another year. That is why the first day is, in essence, a ritual."

"I follow that," Malcolm said, "the trip, then the sorting, then the feast. By the end of the day everyone feels comfortable being back at school."

"Exactly," Dumbledore said, "and the second purpose is to let the new students find their place. The friends that a new student makes, while on the train, often end up in the same house. For example, Potter and Weasley met on the train and both ended up in Gryffindor. It happens too frequently to be a coincidence. And that was how you managed to confuse us, Malcolm. You came to the school having made a highly unlikely pair of friends, Malfoy and Longbottom."

Malcolm started to say something but Albus raised his hand to silence him. "Then the Sorting Hat said it put you in Gryffindor because you would cause less trouble there. Everyone assumed, after the effort you made to come here, that you were destined for Slytherin, or Ravenclaw. We are often wrong in our guesses, but the reasons usually make themselves clear. You were the exception. To be honest, Malcolm, you seemed the least likely Gryffindor in the history of the school."

"I still don't feel like I fit in," Malcolm admitted, "I always feel that people are just being nice to me."

"They are," Dumbledore said, chuckling, "But you see, my boy, we didn't understand. The teachers and I tried several experiments to see how you would react. Professor Snape suggested sending you into Hogsmeade to see what would happen. You ruined our little test by disappearing, although I will admit that turned out well in the end, but that is beside the point."

"Is that why you let Dewey come here all the time?"

"For the most part," Dumbledore admitted, "Your brother also made an unusual friend, but then he and Peeves haven't grown up. You will hate me for saying this, Malcolm, but compared to you, Dewey, for his age, is fairly normal. He simply wants everything his way."

[That is the first time I've heard Dewey called normal.]

"How does Dewey get here?"

"I can't tell you that, Malcolm. I apologize, but I made a promise, long ago."

"And if I ask Peeves, he'll probably laugh at me."

"Interestingly, that is probably all he will do."

"Sir?"

"Malcolm, haven't you noticed that Peeves never harasses you, or anyone who is with you."

"I thought that was because of Dewey."

"It is," Dumbledore admitted. "It seems they have a very strong friendship, which is quite unusual for a Poltergeist."

"They both act the same," Malcolm said, "It's no surprise that they're friends."

"Uhm, Yes," Dumbledore said, as he stared at the young student.

"Can you tell me, Sir, why did you let Dewey take flying lessons?"

"Ah, an easy question," Dumbledore said, "It was Doctor Spencer who suggested it. She thought it might help you to solve your own problem with brooms."

"Did she suggest Gabrielle, too?" Malcolm asked bitterly.

"NO," Albus said harshly, "She would never even have suggested it. Bur since you bring it up, have you tried writing to Gabrielle?"

"She's too busy talking to Jean Paul," Malcolm said, looking down.

"I'm sorry, Malcolm. Affairs of the heart are never easy." Albus said, "But I should get back to the point of this conversation. Why you are here, at Hogwarts."

"Because I'm a wizard," Malcolm answered.

"There are a lot of people who are wizards that never went to Hogwarts, Malcolm. And not everyone who wants to, can come here. You must be a citizen of the United Kingdom, to qualify. We will also accept you if you have a relative who is an alumnus. For example, Seamus Finnigan is Irish, but his mother went to school here. The only other way is by obtaining a grant of permission from the Ministry of Magic."

"I don't understand, Sir," Malcolm said, "Gran, I mean Mrs. Longbottom said she talk to you, or to someone at the school. I thought that was how I got in."

"That is not the case," Albus answered, "Mrs. Longbottom only asked what we would do. It was a relative of yours, who asked if you could be admitted. He was very surprised to find out about you, but he recognized the family resemblance immediately, from the pictures of your family that the ministry sent to us. Prophetically, they warned us to watch out for you."

Albus smiled as Malcolm gave a short laugh. Then Malcolm asked the obvious question.

"Sir, You said I have a relative, at Hogwarts. Is that true? But Professor Binns told the Daily Prophet that I had no relatives living at Hogwarts."

"That was not true," Dumbledore said, "Professor Binns made an appearance when a reporter asked me about your ancestry. Apparently, people were doubting that your parents were squibs. What the Professor said was that you had no living relatives at Hogwarts. You can always trust the Daily Prophet to get things wrong. And please close your mouth, Malcolm. You look like you're trying to catch flies."

[I'm related to Professor Binns?]

"It is an interesting coincidence," Dumbledore said, "that the ministry contacted me while I was meeting with all of the teachers. Otherwise, our History Professor would not have seen your family picture, he would not have made his request, you would have been packed off to that school in the states, and all of our lives would have been different. I, for one, am happy at the turn of events."

"After everything I've done?" Malcolm asked. "Mrs. Norris, running away to London . . ."

"And Australia."

". . . and Australia, and Alabama," Malcolm added with a smile.

"Yes," Dumbledore added, "and that includes that cherry bomb in the toilets, and setting fire to a fellow student, although you overdid it on the water charm when you put him out." Albus sat Malcolm down, and told him, "For all of your antics, you have always tried to put a good face on everything, and you have always tried to be nice to everyone, although not always for a good reason. That was why Voldemort's henchman wanted you. He thought you would want what his master offered."

Albus sighed, then said, "We have difficult times facing us, my boy. The Minister refused to believe Harry Potter, that the Dark Lord had returned. He refused to even see you or Baddock, and claimed that I was trying to force my delusions on him. Fudge refuses to accept the obvious."

"Is Voldemort that powerful?"

"Malcolm, he had your home destroyed within hours of his return. He probably knew, before we did, that your family had already fled. He has many old contacts, who would be happy to share in his glory, and they are answering his call, from every country. Your house was a warning, to ALL of us."

"I didn't picture . . . this isn't what I pictured when I thought about being a wizard. I guess I should have tried to be a better person."

[I don't believe I said that. What's worse, I don't believe I meant that. It's that maturity thing, again.]

Albus grinned at the remark. "Malcolm, I've begun contacting friends, and people I could trust. Thanks to you, I found receptive ears in the American government, although I've been warned that their top people will not take any active part. I have the support, tentatively, of a strong group of wizards in Australia. The ArchChancellor of Unseen University has also told me that, if needs be, we have another place of refuge."

"Wouldn't they have helped us, anyway?"

"They would have," Albus admitted, "but you gave us a personal bond, and we will be stronger allies because of it. The same is true of the Duttons. They would have supported our cause, but now they want to be active in it. They feel personally involved. I only wanted to say thank you, Malcolm, for being who you are."

Dumbledore reached down and picked up an unopened letter, "Is this yours?"

"Yeah, and I know who sent it," Malcolm said, "Pretty soon, Camilla's going to be demanding a date" He added sarcastically, "That's going to be wonderful."

"Perhaps it will, Malcolm," Albus counseled, "Please approach the situation with an open mind. You are always at your best when you do so."

"Yes, Sir," Malcolm said sullenly.

"A much better attitude," Albus said, as he turned to go. "By the way, your family, except for Francis, will be here shortly. I suggested they pay you a visit while their new house is being put in order. I thought you would appreciate it."

Thank you, Sir," Malcolm lied.

[I was really looking forward to seeing them in two days, not today.]

One minute later, the infirmary was empty, except for a light breeze from an open window.

*

"So where is he?" Reese said as he walked into the infirmary and looked around.

"I don't understand," Madame Pomfrey said, "Professor Dumbledore told him you were coming."

"I understand," Lois said, "Professor Dumbledore told him we were coming."

"I hate this place," Dewey said.

"But son," Hal said, "You loved coming here all those times."

"I didn't have to watch him (pointing at Nob) all those times."

"Malcolm, don't talk that way about your brother," Lois said.

"Mooom, I'm Dewey. And Nob is only a foster kid."

"Isn't that cute, Honey," Hal said, "Dewey and Nob are bonding. DEWEY, GET BACK HERE."

Lois shook her head, and said, "Reese get away from there. Don't touch that."

As he pulled the cloth off the mirror, accidently, Reese looked in the Mirror, and shouted, "I kicked major butt."

"What are you talking about?" Lois said, suddenly.

"It's the Mirror of Erised," Madame Pomfrey warned, "It shows your greatest desire."

"Is this true?" Reese asked. "Will this really happen?"

"No. The mirror does not show truth." Madame Pomfrey said, "It only shows what you want."

"Figures," Reese said as he walked away from the mirror, "They won't allow automatic weapons in wrestling, anyhow."

"I've got to see this," Lois said, and walked up to the mirror before she could be stopped. "That is amazing," she said, "I wish I could get a picture of this." Lois turned to Madame Pomfrey and asked, "Are you sure this can't happen?"

"I don't know what you are seeing," Madame Pomfrey admitted, "but it is likely that it will never happen."

"Could I just keep the mirror, then?" Lois said.

"I'm sorry I did not meet you at the entrance, I was sidetracked," Albus Dumbledore said, as he walked into the infirmary with Dewey and Hal. "As to the mirror," he said to Lois, "I am afraid it is not for sale."

"It's a nice looking mirror though," Hal said, walking up to it, as everyone watched with curiosity. Hal looked into the mirror, and pulled out his handkerchief, wiping his mouth. "Honey, why didn't you tell me I had Mustard on my lip. How long has that been there?"

"You didn't see anything?" Lois asked in surprise.

"I saw that glob of mustard on my lower lip," Hal said in annoyance. "It was big enough. Someone could have pointed it out."

"I mean, you didn't see yourself as President or something?" Lois asked.

"Of course not, Honey. It's only a mirror."

"No, it isn't, Hal," Lois exclaimed, "It's a mirror that shows what you desire most."

"Excuse me," Albus interrupted, "I should mention about the mirror, It is said that the truly happy man will look in the mirror and see only his true reflection."

"You see," Hal told Lois, "that explains it."

"But Hal, how can you be happy. One of our children is missing, another one was almost killed, our house was destroyed, we may never . . . "

Hal's fingers on Lois's lip kept her from finishing, "Francis can take care of himself, Malcolm is fine, and we're getting a new home. But none of that matters, because I have you. And I know that as long as you and I are together, everything will work out."

"You're happy because you have me?" Lois asked incredulously.

"How could I be unhappy, if I have you?"

"Oh, Hal," Lois said, and they fell into a passionate kiss.

"I'm going to find Malcolm," Dewey said quickly, and headed for the door.

"I'll help you," Reese said as he quickly followed.

Lois broke off from her kiss, and said, "take Nob with you." She paused and looked at the Headmaster and the Nurse. "Don't you two have anything better to do?"

"Come Poppy," Albus said, "I think we can find something to do by the lake."

"They have a lake," Hal murmured.

"Later," Lois said, as the door closed behind them.

*

"Madam Pomfrey," the second year cried as he hobbled into the infirmary, "I broke my leg." His eyes focused on the two figures in the room. "It can wait," he said, and hobbled back out.

*

"Nob will be safe here," Dobby said.

"Thank you," Nob said gratefully, "Dewey always tries to leave me behind."

"I heard Dewey's name," a voice in the back said, "Did he come with you, Dobby?"

"Friend Malcolm," Dobby said, "Dobby found Nob and brought him here."

Dobby grabbed the younger elf, and dragged him to where Malcolm was hiding. Malcolm looked down at the little fellow wearing a blue T-shirt with colored stripes, and Thomas the Tank Engine overalls. Nob looked up in awe when he saw Malcolm, then jumped at him, crushing his knee in an effort to hug him.

"I wanted to see you, Malcolm," Nob said, "You know everything."

"I do?" Malcolm asked as he tried to pry the elf of his leg.

"Whenever I ask Dewey about something, he says if you were here you could tell me what to do."

"Dewey says that?"

"Yes, Dewey says you are a wonderful brother."

"Oh, Yeah. I am," Malcolm stuttered.

[I don't know how to handle this. I wish Francis were here. He could tell me what to do.]

"Malcolm," Nob asked, "is a foster brother like a real brother? Mommy says yes, but Dewey says she's saying that to be nice."

[Foster Brother? Did he just say Mommy?]

"Uh. Well. Er," Malcolm said informatively.

"Friend Malcolm," Dobby said in awe, "Is Nob your brother?"

Malcolm looked up to see dozens of house elves had stopped working, and were watching him. "Well," he said, trying not to be nervous, "he's only my foster brother. That mean that my parents take care of him. He won't be my real brother until he's adopted." Malcolm paused, then corrected himself quickly. "Unless. Unless he's adopted."

"Is Malcolm going to adopt Nob?" one of the elves asked.

"It's not my decision," Malcolm said, "that would be up to my parents."

"What will happen to Nob?" another elf asked.

"He'll go to school, I guess," Malcolm said, shrugging his shoulders.

[Uh-oh.]

Murmurs of 'school' went through the crowd of elves. Then Dobby said, "Friend Malcolm, house elves do not go to schools, unless they work in them."

[He's going to school all right. Mom will make sure of it. That's her free time.]

"Wait until September, " Malcolm told Dobby. He then turned to Nob and said, "You've only got two months of freedom left. You better make the most of them."

"I am going to school?" Nob asked in surprise. Malcolm nodded then screamed in pain as Nob cut off all circulation to his leg.

"Friend Malcolm!" Dobby said, with as much respect as he could muster.

*

"I apologize for what happened earlier," Lois said, as she and Hal were escorted to the teachers table.

"There is no need," Dumbledore said, "The boy only had a sprain, he was taken care of in minutes."

"He looked so frightened when I saw him standing there," Lois said.

"I have no idea why?" Albus deadpanned, "but I do thank you for joining us for dinner. Most of the students know what happened, and it will do them good to see that you are all well."

"I thought this was lunch?" Hal said.

"It's an English thing," Albus explained, "we do it to confuse the tourists."

"It works for me," Hal said, "but where is Malcolm?"

"There he is," Lois said, as Malcolm walked into the Great Hall with Nob in tow. She smiled and said, "Look, Hal. They get along so well together." Then she yelled, "DON'T YOU DARE DITCH HIM LIKE THAT, MALCOLM. HE'S YOUR BROTHER AND YOU WILL TREAT HIM LIKE ONE."

The food appeared on the table, and Lois looked down at her plate. " Is that Lobster tail?"

"And Filet Mignons," Hal said appreciatively, "and look, the spring vegetables have that honey mustard sauce we both love."

Lois noticed the other plates were empty and asked, "Why don't you have food on your plates?"

"I think it's because Malcolm payed a visit to the kitchens after I told him you were coming," Dumbledore explained. "They obviously prepared special meals for you."

"How sweet," Lois said, "I'll wait until Malcolm gets home before I punish him for running off."

*

"Here comes Malcolm," Dewey said, and a small group of Gryffindors turned to watch him enter the Great Hall.

"Why is he sitting Nob at the Hufflepuff table?" Hermione asked. After Lois finished yelling, Hermione asked, "is Nob really your brother?"

Dewey nodded glumly as Malcolm sat down, putting Nob between the two boys.

"Are you happy to be here, Nob?" Hermione asked.

"Yes," Nob said cheerfully, "today is Thursday." Then all three boys smiled.

Ginny laughed at Hermione's confused look and explained, "Every Thursday, Malcolm's mom takes all the leftovers and makes Six Layer Casserole."

"Last week, it had seven layers," Nob said sullenly.

Hermione stared in the air as she comprehended what she had just been told. "Thank you, Nob," she said, "now I'm no longer hungry."

Harry and Ron came in at the last minute and sat down next to Hermione. Then the food appeared on the table, and Ron pointed at Dewey's plate, and asked, "Is that a cheeseburger?"

"Yeah," Dewey said, happily, "but what's this round stuff?"

"Canadian Bacon," Malcolm explained, "In this country that's what you get when you ask for bacon. I should have asked them for rashers."

"Cool," Dewey said and began eating.

Ron gave him a dirty look and said, "I would have loved a Bacon Cheeseburger."

"You can have mine," Malcolm offered, "I'm in the mood for chicken, anyway."

[I love the look on his face when I do something nice for him.]

Malcolm looked around and asked, "Where's Reese?"

"I don't know," Dewey said happily.

*

"I have a credit card," Reese said.

"Is it yours?" the clerk at the counter of Zonko's Joke Shop asked.

"It's my dad's, but I have his permission."

"Is it in writing?"

"I've got Twenty bucks," Reese exclaimed. "If you want to make the sale, it's either charge or cash."

"I'm sorry," the clerk said impatiently, "we do not take foreign currency."

"Look, lady, I've had my house blown up, I'm living in somebody's attic, and the only clothes I've got are the one's I'm wearing. Can't I have a little fun?"

"Oh, your one of the . . . " the clerk said suddenly, "I'll talk to the manager."

She returned a few minutes later, and said, "I have the manager's permission, and the current exchange rate." She rang up the sale and gave him his change of four sickles and seven knuts.

"Thanks, lady," Reese said happily, "and what are those things? They look like rubber spiders but they're moving."

"Those are tickle spiders," the clerk explained. "They crawl into someone's armpit, and proceed to tickle the victim. They're 11 knuts each."

"I'll take two."


	28. The Long Journey Home

Chapter 29: The Long Journey Home 

The farewell feast was over. All the bags were packed for the trip home tomorrow. Although it was late, Malcolm needed to say one more goodbye. That was why he was walking down a dusty, seldom used hallway. He came to a rusted door, and whispered the password.

"I was right," Fred said, coming out of the shadows.

"Malcolm, my good friend," George said enthusiastically, "You know the password, don't you?"

"This is great," Fred told Malcolm, "George and I found this door our first year, and we've never been able to get past it. We tried everything."

"And now we will, thanks to you," George added.

"I'm only going to visit a friend," Malcolm said, glumly, "You're more than welcome to join me."

Malcolm opened the door, and Fred and George caught their first glimpse of the field of grass on the other side. In the moonlight, they also noticed the stones and realized what they were seeing. As Malcolm walked through the door, George carefully closed the door behind him. Then the two boys returned down the dusty corridor to the Gryffindor tower.

Some doors are meant to be left unopened.

*

"Are you excited to be going home?" Neville asked as they boarded the train.

"Kind of," Malcolm replied, "It would help if I knew where my home was. The Weasleys are going to take me there after they drop off their kids."

"Then you're staying in England?"

"Yeah. Dumbledore said it would be safer since I go to school here. The Department of Magic objected at first, but David Winter argued strongly for the move, so they agreed."

Neville was clearly impressed. "Mr. Winter must care for you a great deal."

"Not exactly."

The two found a compartment, and Ginny soon joined them. "Remember, Malcolm, you aren't to use magic until you get back to school."

"I don't have a wand anymore," Malcolm said, "and Mom says I can pick up a new one when I head back to school in September."

"Your mother is a wise woman."

"Hello, Neville, Sis," Fred said as he opened the compartment door. "Malcolm, stop by later, we want to talk to you about next year's Quidditch Team. We're in the third compartment of the next car."

"You have got to be kidding."

"Seriously," Fred laughed, "we have a surprise for you."

"Cool," Malcolm said, "If it's anything like those chocolates, you guys are going to make a fortune."

After Fred left, Ginny commented, "The twins don't know."

"What don't they know?" Malcolm asked.

"They didn't tell you?" Ginny asked in surprise. "I don't think I should tell you. I might spoil it."

"Can you tell me?" Neville asked, and Ginny whispered into his ear.

Neville laughed, and said, "You're right. Don't tell him. It will be a great surprise."

[I hate this. It's like seeing all of your Christmas presents under the tree, then being told you have to eat all of your dinner first, while you're eating breakfast.]

*

As Malcolm walked into the adjoining car, he was suddenly grabbed, and pulled into the first compartment. He was pushed into a seat and found himself facing an angry Draco Malfoy.

"Don't you listen?" Draco hissed. "I told you they were dangerous, but you won't stay away from them. I can't protect you if you won't pay attention."

"Draco, what are you talking about?"

"Potter," Draco sneered, "Don't you understand about his scar? Voldemort gave it to him along with his power. It links them. It lets Voldemort control Potter. Can't you see that?"

"Draco, calm down."

"You stupid fool," Draco said, almost yelling, "People are dying. They even attacked you. If we don't stop them, they'll destroy us all. I've heard father talk about the old days. I don't want that to happen again. I don't want to lose you, Basil."

"We're ready," Goyle said as he approached the compartment. Crabbe was standing behind him, and both had their wands ready.

"What are you going to do?" Malcolm asked.

"What we have to," Draco whispered, "We may not be able to stop Voldemort, but we can stop his tool."

Malcolm grabbed Draco's shoulder, but the older boy knocked the hand away, and punched Malcolm hard in the stomach, knocking the wind out of him.

"I'm doing this for you, Basil," Draco whispered to the gasping boy, then turned on his heels and walked out of the compartment, Crabbe and Goyle following.

Malcolm struggled to his feet and managed to walk to the twins' compartment. He opened the door and gasped, "Draco, flipped . . . He's after Potter."

In a flash, the twins were gone. "I'll help you," Lee Jordan said and helped Malcolm onto the seat. As Lee pulled out his wand, Malcolm looked at him in surprise.

"You're not going with them?"

"I'd only be in the way," Lee said, as he waved his wand over Malcolm's body. "I'm not much of a fighter," he added, "and it looks like you'll be fine."

"You're a healer?"

"I'll be studying at St. Mungo's, after I graduate from Hogwarts. Madam Pomfrey has been teaching me a few things in the meantime."

*

By the time Malcolm was sitting up, word already had filtered through the train about the duel. The Slytherins lost and were lying in the passageway with multiple hexes.

"I suppose I should thank you," Lee said, "for helping Harry."

"I didn't do it to help Potter," Malcolm said, staring at the floor. "I did it for Draco." Had Malcolm looked up, he would have seen a very surprised Lee Jordan.

"Could you explain that?" Lee asked, but Malcolm shook his head.

"There's too much I can't tell," Malcolm answered, "but Draco believes that Voldemort is controlling Potter though that scar he has."

"Draco Malfoy was trying to be a hero," Lee said in wry amusement, "I'll have to remember that he's one of the good guys."

"Only until he gets home," Malcolm added sadly, "For all that Draco believes, he'll follow his father, wherever he leads."

"I'll help," Lee said, after an awkward silence.

"Excuse me?"

"When the train stops, I'll remove the hexes. I think I know enough to counter anything the twins can cast, and they're two years ahead of Potter."

"Thanks," Malcolm said sincerely.

*

Lee and Malcolm made their way through the train until they came to where the bodies lie. The car was empty except for the five students. Methodically, Lee went from one Slytherin to the next, removing the hexes. When he was done, the three Slytherins looked as though they were only sleeping.

"Enervate," Lee called out three times.

Crabbe, Goyle and Malfoy slowly rose to their feet, casting wary glances at Lee Jordan, and his wand. When Crabbe and Goyle looked at Malcolm, it was with nothing except pure hatred.

"What happened between us," Lee Jordan said, "will stay between us, unless you wish to tell someone. For my part, I will say nothing."

Draco nodded, then turned to Malcolm and said, "You shouldn't have done that."

"I had to stop you."

"That wasn't what I was referring to," Draco said, nodding his head in the direction of Lee Jordan. "We could have claimed that WE were attacked."

"I didn't think of that," Malcolm admitted.

"We might still give it a try."

"Draco," Goyle said.

"I will talk to Malcolm, first," Draco said evenly.

"He's the enemy," Crabbe exclaimed, "he already proved it."

"Malcolm has been my friend for two years," Draco said angrily, "I will talk to him one last time. Wait for me outside."

"Draco," Crabbe hissed.

"OUTSIDE. NOW," Draco demanded.

Bitterly, the two Slytherins left. Draco turned to Lee Jordan and said, "I'd like to talk to my friend in private."

Lee looked at Malcolm, who nodded, and said, "for the record, I didn't think of it either."

"You made your point," Draco said, "but, thank you, anyway."

Lee nodded, and left the two boys alone.

"You were wrong about Potter," Malcolm said.

"It doesn't matter, now," Draco said, "I thought I was doing the right thing. I owe you an apology."

"You don't owe me anything," Malcolm told him.

"Sometimes, I don't know where I stand in the world," Draco admitted. "I wish I could be as sure of myself as you are."

Malcolm laughed. "It sounds like you are. I'm never sure of anything, but . . ." He pulled a worn letter out of his pocket. "When I first came to Hogwarts, I didn't know what to do, so I wrote to Stevie and asked for his advice. This is what he sent me."

Draco took the letter, and read the first part, the put it away. "I promise I'll read it when I get the chance," he said. "Stevie's the only person I ever met that made me glad he was smarter than me. Give him my best."

"I don't think I'll be seeing him for a while. They tell me it's not safe."

"You were the best friend I ever had, Malcolm. I'll miss you."

"I'll miss you, too," Malcolm said, sadly, "I just wish we were two different people, so we could remain friends."

Draco's eyes twinkled. "We both don't have to be two different people," he said conspiratorially. "Only one of us does."

[The Seminar? Draco knows.]

Draco put his arm around Malcolm's shoulder, and said, "You know, Louis. This could be the beginning of a beautiful friendship."


	29. Epilogue

Chapter 30: Epilogue 

"You took long enough," Ginny said.

"I was looking for my trunk," Malcolm said. "I couldn't find it."

"It's already in the car. Remember. I told you I would take care of it."

"I forgot," Malcolm admitted.

"Make up a better lie, next time," Ginny said, "I heard about the duel, and I saw Malfoy walking away. Better yet, just say 'sorry I'm late,' and leave it at that."

Ginny led Malcolm from the platform and through Kings Cross Station. As they reached the entrance, Ron met them, and said, "Ginny, did you hear? Dad says we have some new neighbors. Isn't that great? They've got to be better than that old . . ." Then he noticed Malcolm, and one plus one added together and became two.

"NO, NOT YOU," Ron yelled. "You can't be our new neighbors."

Malcolm looked surprised, but Ginny was laughing so hard, that he realized that it was true. He was going to be living next door to the Weasleys.

"You're going to ruin my summer vacation," Ron said angrily.

"Ron, I promise," Malcolm said, "I won't do anything to ruin your vacation."

[I'll let Reese do it.]  
  
  
  
  
  


Author's Note:  
  


Another year has come and gone. And now Malcolm is going to a new home, with new friends and new adventures. The story of Malcolm's third year will be coming out in fall 2003, assuming that the date of publication for book five of HP is not delayed. Consequently, I cannot give a complete outline of what to expect. However:  
  


Malcolm will have to take broom flying lessons.

Ron will refuse to like Malcolm, but the reason will be because he is related to Reese. (Ron will later change the reason to because he is living.)

Dewey will not visit Hogwarts for the entire year.

Francis, and those of you who watch the show already know this, will turn up in Alaska.

Nob will go to school.

Professor Binns explains how he is related to Malcolm.

Professor Binns will also explain how Dewey gets back and forth to Hogwarts.

Malcolm has a date with Camilla, and learns a secret about her family.

Malcolm also encounters Gabrielle Delacour, and Jean Paul.

Draco invites Louis Renault to Malfoy Manor.  
  


Tentatively, the following may happen, depending on the plot of the HP book:  
  


Malcolm meets interesting people and annoys them.

If Dobby and Winky develop any kind of relationship, Nob may end up being adopted by them. Otherwise Lois will be stuck with raising the little elf, with no help from Hal, who thinks Nob is the best candidate he's ever had to become the 'perfect son.'

Malcolm becomes a courier for Dumbledore.

Malcolm will take action, and directly save someone's life, probably Hermione.

Hermione will probably never be aware of this.

Hey, it sounds like an interesting plot twist.

Reese will make a guest appearance and do something typical.

Malcolm will accept the fact that he has matured by deliberately doing something stupid.

Frodo Baggins will jump into the Crack of Doom with the One Ring rather than risk ending up in a fanfic with Malcolm. (I've got a great title: Hobbit in the Middle.)  
  


In reference to the last line, an a shameless plug for my own writing, I have started posting my own HP/LOTR crossover called The Way of the Ring (storyid=916534). I know that there are 50 or more versions out there between the HP, LOTR, and Crossover sections, but I decided that I should put it up anyway. As to actually writing a Malcolm/Frodo crossover, I am not planning on it, but I do have this picture in the back of my head of Dewey standing on the precipice over the Cracks of Doom and saying smugly, "Ha. Ha, I've got the ring, and you don't."  
  


This is the last chapter of the story, but I did add four more chapters to follow this. As I have said in an earlier note, I write the complete story, before I begin posting it. Both times that I tried posting chapters as I wrote them, I ended up going in different directions from where I planned. These four chapters were discarded for one reason or another as the story progressed. They aren't bad, in my opinion, but they would have changed the story in the long run. Think of them as the writer's version of a DVD's deleted scenes and alternate endings.  
  


Thanks to all of you for reading and reviewing  
  


Sincerely, HiBob  
  


PS. I can't bring myself to writing my own version of HP5. You will have to wait until the book comes out. I have made notes of particular scenes that will appear in Malcolm's third year, and yes, Ron will distinctly mention how much fun he had with the tickle spiders.

"It's your fault," Ron hissed.

"But I didn't do it," Malcolm insisted. "It was Reese"

"Yes, but he's your brother," Ron snarled as he raised his fist. Then he started laughing uncontrollably as he reached into his shirt, grabbing for his armpit, and falling over in the process.

[Oh Yeah, Reese bought two of them.]  
  



	30. Deleted Chapter Fourteen

A/N: This was supposed to be the original chapter fourteen but I felt it was too busy, and it made Malcolm into a more important player than he really is. In the end I decided to ignore Rita Skeeter altogether since she gets her comeuppance from Hermione, anyway. I just wanted to show you what might have been.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Chapter Fourteen: The Fourteenth Chapter 

"Malcolm," Ron called out, "How are you this morning?"

"Fine," Malcolm said, "Are you and Harry still fighting?"

"Of course not."

"Do you talk to each other?"

"Why should we?"

Malcolm shook his head. "Ron, I appreciate the fact that you're being nice to me, but it is getting annoying. You know Harry didn't do anything wrong. I told you that. Hermione told you that. Even Dennis Creevey told you that."

"Only because you told him to."

"That's beside the point," Malcolm said, "The point is, you're wrong to be jealous of him. You're the lucky one. You don't have reporters writing lies about you, just to sell their papers."

"Like that story about you being born with two heads."

[He would remember that one.]

"Yeah, like that one."

"Well," Ron said, "I'll think about it. What are you planning on doing today?"

"I was going to meet Hagrid for my Care of Magical Creatures class. Do you want to join us?"

*

Malcolm walked down to Hagrid's hut when a lady, who could best be described as slick, stopped him.

"You're Malcolm," the lady said, "I'm Rita Skeeter. I did an article on your family history."

"Yeah, I read it. It's a bunch of lies you know."

"Oh really," Rita Skeeter with absolutely no surprise.

"That's right," Malcolm said, "A friend started the rumor as a joke, and it got out of hand. I only found out all about it, when I read your article."

"And you are an avid reader?"

"Uh, Yeah," Malcolm said, "I love your stuff. But I was thinking about that article. It went well with that followup about my charity work at the hospital, but eventually somebody's going to find out the truth about me."

Rita gave her oiliest smile, "and you would like me to smooth things out for you."

"In a way," Malcolm said, returning the smile, "My guess is you'll break the story first, once you know it's going to become public knowledge. That will leave me as either a scheming little runt, or a poor little boy who was lied to and used. I just wanted a heads up on which way it flows."

Rita frowned, "You want a heads up? I don't understand."

"Sorry," Malcolm said, "I just want to know how you're going to write it. I want to know whether or not to cry when the story breaks."

"I understand," Rita Skeeter said, "You know my style, Malcolm. Unless, I get a good reason, I'll have to tell everyone that you were leading us on. The public won't like that."

"Miss Skeeter, "Malcolm said with a nasty grin, "You know that isn't true. Everyone loves a bad boy. They feel so much better by comparison."

"Malcolm," Rita Skeeter said, "When I'm done with you, you won't even like yourself."

"Okay," Malcolm said, "I tried to be nice about it, so you'd better write your story fast. Wizard Weekly is talking to me after they're done with their photo shoot for the tournament. I'll just have to make a full confession to them. They'll probably ask you to comment."

"That is a pitiful threat, Malcolm," Rita said, "and I've been threatened by experts."

"That wasn't a threat," Malcolm said, "but this is. I have friends, and if you really know about me, you know who I mean. I don't like all of your publicity, and I don't want it. Take potshots at anyone else. I don't care. But leave me out of it."

"I'm frightened," Rita said laughing. "Really, Malcolm, try to come up with a better threat than that."

"Okay," Malcolm said, "How about this for a threat," and he pointed upward.

Rita looked up and saw hundreds of owls perched on the balconies and overhangs of the school, or flying around overhead. "I don't understand?" she said on a confused note.

"I told you," Malcolm said, "I have friends. What good is your paper if you can't get it delivered. If I ask my friends for a favor, they'll do it." He then called out, "Thanks, guys," and the owls flew back to the owlery, except for one white owl. She flew by Malcolm and playfully hit his head with a wing, then landed lightly on his shoulder.

Malcolm smiled as the first beads of perspiration appeared on Rita Skeeter's forehead. "Do we have a deal?"

"It'll only take one article, Malcolm, and. . ."

". . .you're out of a job. Is it a deal?"

"Yes," Rita muttered, and entered the building uttering words that quite a few students had never heard before."

[Yeah, that's right. I got all of the owls to do me a favor. They like me. Of course, they all want a favor from me. It's hard to explain, but. . .they want me to be more of an owl. I have to talk to Dumbledore about that. I guess I should have talked to him first.]

*

It was a near thing, but Albus Dumbledore kept control of himself. Suppressing the urge to laugh, he asked Malcolm to repeat what he had just said.

"It's the owls, Sir. They did me a favor to help with all of that publicity, and they want me to do a favor in return. They want me to, um, take lessons."

"Lessons on being an owl." Albus said, his hands covering his mouth.

"Yeah, they complain I don't fly enough, and I hardly ever deliver any mail," Malcolm said, scraping his feet on the carpet.

[I swear, he's laughing at me.]

"Very well, Malcolm. On free weekends but no more than twice a month, you can train to be a proper owl. You can go now."

Professor McGonagall walked into the office as Malcolm was leaving. As he walked down the steps, he heard the headmaster say, "Minerva, you will not believe what that boy has gotten himself into this time."

"I heard that," Malcolm called back.

"I know," Albus said, smugly.

*

"Are you ready for this weekend?" Draco asked.

"That seminar, I guess," Malcolm said. "Last year it was trying to get nights free, now it's my weekends. I have the seminar this weekend. Next weekend I go to the hospital to either entertain the kids, or talk to that doctor. The kids win out there."

"I'll help you with that," Draco assured him.

"Anyway, the weekend after that I get to spend as an owl."

"I love the way you say that with a straight face. That's the weekend of the Tournament."

Malcolm debated telling Draco and decided, "I owe the owls a favor. I have to be an owl for at least one weekend a month, no more than two."

"It must have been a big favor," Draco said, nodding his head.

"It's a conditional favor," Malcolm said, "If that Skeeter lady writes another article about me, they're going to refuse to deliver the Daily Prophet."

"All of the owls?" Draco asked.

"Most of them, I think," Malcolm said, "You have to understand, they really like me. They really really like me."

[That sounded fake.]

Draco walked away, shaking his head.


	31. Deleted Chapter Seventeen

A/N: originally I had not planned on Malcolm and his family going anywhere over the Christmas holidays. The result was that I originally wrote the story about Stevie's gift from the perspective of Malcolm relating what happened during his vacation. (This is why I always finish my stories before I post.) As I was proofing the story, it didn't feel right, and I started to think about Malcolm visiting someone. The only people available were the Malfoys. I will admit I was as surprised as Lois when Lucius gave here the house elf, but what could I do. (Did you notice how I gave the creative names to these chapters.)

  
  
Chapter Seventeen: The Seventeenth Chapter 

Harry Potter woke up with someone shaking him. "What is it?" he asked as he reached for his glasses to find Reese standing next to him. "Reese? What are you doing here?"

"I had to tell you first, Harry," Reese said, "The Papers went through."

"What Papers? What are you talking about."

"The Adoption Papers," Reese said, "As of midnight, the two of us are brothers. Isn't that GREAT?"

*

"What happened?" Hermione asked as she stood outside the boy's dorm.

"It was Harry," Ron told her, as Ginny joined them, "He had another nightmare. He doesn't remember what it was about, but he said it was horrible."

"He must have been dreaming about his parents again," Hermione surmised, "and about You-Know-Who. I wish there was something we could do."

*

"Malcolm, welcome back," EJ said, as he sat down in the compartment, "Did you have a wonderful holiday?"

"It was strange," Malcolm said. "I almost got in trouble for one of my gifts, but Mr. Winter came through for me again."

"Did anyone get arrested?" Dennis Creevey asked.

"Not this time," Malcolm said to the disappointed first-year, "but I did have three agents from the Department of Magic visit my friend Stevie. This is what happened:"

*

"Merry . . . Christmas . . . Malcolm," Stevie said.

"Thanks for the comics," Malcolm said, "I've got a great present for you, but You've got to be careful." He pulled out his wand and waved it in the air. A loud pop was heard as David Winter appeared and pulled the wand out of Malcolm's hand.

"My timing is impeccable," David Winter said. "Malcolm, you do understand that our general rule of no use of magic during vacations applies to you. Why don't you try following the rules for once?"

"I can explain," Malcolm said.

"I doubt that," Mr. Winter said, "You have a perfect memory, Malcolm. That disqualifies you from using the "I forgot," excuse. If you were Reese you could use it forever, but you aren't. Now, what were you trying to do?"

"Well, you know Stevie," Malcolm said.

"Hi . . . " said Stevie.

"Hi," David Winter said.

"I wanted to give him his Christmas present," Malcolm said. "I learned this spell to animate objects and I was going to cast it on Stevie's wheelchair. This way it could levitate and he can get up stairs, and use the top shelves of his bookcases, things like that."

"Even though it is illegal," David said.

"Like you never broke the law," Malcolm said.

"I stretched the truth a few times," David admitted then looked at Stevie, sitting broken hearted in his wheelchair. His face showed his disappointment in such a manner that it touched David's heart. "I'll do it for you," he told Malcolm, and turned his head to wipe away a tear. Meanwhile the two boys did a high five, and were standing there, and sitting there, looking completely innocent when David turned back.

"Did you know I could see the two of you in the mirror when I had my back turned?" David asked.

"Look, Mr. Winter," Malcolm said, "It's something that would really help Stevie out. That's why I want to do it. What good is magic if you can't help people."

"All right," David said, "but you had better be an angel for the rest of the time you are home, or the spell comes off. Understand. NO MAGIC."

David Winter cast the spell on the wheelchair, and two agents from the Department of Muggle Artifacts appeared.

"Okay Malcolm, we finally caught you," the first agent said. "Where's your wand?"

Malcolm pointed behind them at David Winter, who was holding two wands. David was smiling at them.

"I used to know your boss when he was a division head, instead of a branch chief," David said, "Did you know it is illegal to monitor the user of a wand, you can only monitor the use of a wand."

One of the agents raised his hand and pointed at David, then changed his mind and shut up.

"Excellent Idea," David Winter said, "Look, I know your boss is a jerk. He tried to bully students when he reviewed use of magic violations. Malcolm's Mom fixed his wagon. Now he's targeting Malcolm, and that is grossly illegal. Here's the deal. You have just reported this violation to me. I will pass it on unless your boss takes an early retirement . . . "

"I'm for that," the first agent said.

"Me, too," the second agent said.

"I think he'll go for it," David Winter said, "considering his other option is to be fired. But I don't think the two of you should have to worry about this. You need a little information on me, just in case."

The agents looked at Stevie, who was practicing with the vertical lift on his wheelchair. "It seems to me," the one agent said, "that the spell you cast could be considered an illegal use of a muggle artifact. If anyone asks, we will have to tell them about it."

[I love the government at work.]

After shaking hands the two agents from muggle artifacts left, and Stevie asked his question to David, "Who is . . . going to ask . . . about this."

"Their replacements," David said, "Eventually they will either be promoted or they'll retire. Either way, I owe them a favor, and they owe me one. And you, Stevie, are the favor they owe me."

"Thanks, Mr. Winter," Malcolm said, "It was great of you to offer to do this."

"It's like you said, Malcolm, what good is magic if you can't help people. And thank you for those chocolates. My wife loved them.

*

"And that's what happened," Malcolm said, "more or less."

"I believe you," EJ said with a laugh, "You worked out a deal with a government agent just to get somebody fired."


	32. Alternative Chapter 22: Version One

A/N: One of the unresolved questions was how could Dobby have been at Hogwarts last year, when he told Harry Potter he had started this year. This is the shorter version of the two versions I wrote. I finally decided on the third version where Malcolm receives the letter about Nob, because the first two versions kept taking the story in the wrong direction. Nob is supposed to be the comic relief, but this version, and particularly the next version kept shoving him onto the center stage.

  
  
  
  
Chapter Twenty Two: Arguments and the Law 

"Good Morning, Malcolm," Hermione said, frostily.

"Are you still mad at me about the house elf?" Malcolm said as he looked up from his breakfast. "I told you it wasn't my fault."

"We have nothing to talk about," Hermione said, as she walked past."

"What would you like me to do?" Malcolm yelled after her, "Do you want me to adopt him. Will that make you happy."

"I don't know why she's upset," Ginny said, "He looked cute in the picture they sent."

"Yeah," Malcolm admitted, "but things are getting weird at my house. According to my Mom, Francis taught the house elf to lie."

"Is Francis home, now," Neville asked.

"No, apparently he gave lessons over the phone. Mom's furious about the phone bill."

"Could we talk about something else other than Malcolm's house elf," EJ asked, "I hear this argument every morning."

"Malcolm," Professor McGonagall said as she walked up to the table, "I have no idea what you have done, but Professor Dumbledore wants to see you in his office, immediately."

[But I haven't had a chance to do anything yet. I'm still in the planning stage.]

"Excuse me, Professor, I'm in the middle of breakfast. Can I finish first?"

"No, you can not, because you are in the middle of running to the Headmaster's office, Malcolm," McGonagall said with surprising sterness, "Now GO."

Malcolm ran all the way to Dumbledore's office, and stopped by the stone gargoyle, but the door was open. He walked in warily, and stopped when he heard someone call his name.

"Francis? What the hell are you doing here?"

"You payed me a visit, Malcolm. I'm returning the favor."

[I'm officially confused. This doesn't happen.]

"No, I'm sorry, Francis. I don't buy it," Malcolm said, angrily "Nobody in my family has ever come here to visit me. Dewey always comes to visit that stupid poltergeist. Reese comes by and hangs out with Draco Malfoy. Now you show up. What's going on?"

Francis smiled wryly at Malcolm's outburst, and said, "You're right. I need something, and it's important, and it's too involved to put into a letter, and you are the last person I know to ask."

[Not only am I confused, I'm getting scared.]

"What is it?"

"This may sound stupid," Francis said, "but I need you to find a house elf who will tell a lie."

"Uh, Francis," Malcolm said carefully, "Mom said that you taught Nob to lie."

"Yeah, I did," Francis admitted, "and now I'm trying to fix it. Can you do it?"

"I guess," Malcolm said, "there are tons of house elves here. One of them must have lied or known an elf to lie. How soon do you need the elf."

"Let's see," Francis said, "It's 8:30 here, and the hearing is in Washington at 10:00, their time, figure two hours to travel there by floo and portkey and local transportation . . . "

"Three Hours?" Malcolm asked, "To find a house elf that lies? Francis, that is stupid. I can do that in two minutes. Watch me." Malcolm turned to Dumbledore and said, "Excuse me, Sir. Could you tell me please if we have any house elves that have ever lied?"

"I asked him, already," Francis said.

Albus Dumbledore cleared his throat to get Malcolm's attention, and said, "I told your brother that I could not help him. A House Elf does not lie. It isn't allowed. He may not tell the entire truth, if his master wishes it, but no House Elf will tell a deliberate falsehood."

"Wait a minute," Malcolm said, "That can't be true, because Nob did. If one house elf can do it, then another one has to be able to do it." Malcolm turned to Francis and asked, "What is this hearing about, that you need a lying elf?"

Francis sat down heavily in a chair, and said, "After I got Nob to tell a lie, I told him he was practically part of the family. Then I said, exact words, 'All you have to do now is . . . '"

[Oh My God. Mom and Dad are going to ADOPT the house elf. On the other hand, Hermione will be happy.]

"It's a custody hearing," Malcolm said to himself. "Why is Mom doing it?"

"Dad talked her into it."

"Dad can't talk her into letting him make up his own mind."

"Malcolm, Dad was standing there when Mom caught Nob lying. Then Nob, thinking I was telling the truth, called her, 'Mommy.' Dad could have talked her into a divorce if he wanted to."

"Okay, Francis," Malcolm said, "It's starting to make sense. Nobs only a little kid, despite the fact that he's an elf, and Mom and Dad got sentimental over the whole thing, Let me guess. The hearing is in Washington, because it's at the Bureau of Interspecies Affairs."

"Close," Francis said, "The Bureau, and the Department of Health and Human Services's Wizard Family Welfare Office both have offices there. It's a matter of convenience."

"Why do you need another elf who lies?" Malcolm asked.

"Because Elves don't lie," Francis said, "When the Welfare Office found out, they took Nob and declared him to be divergent. It means . . . "

"I know," Malcolm said, "We had a hippogryph here last year. They used the same word at one point."

Malcolm turned around and ran out of the office. "Why did he do that?" Francis asked.

"You told him he had a new brother, and now he is going to lose him," Albus explained. "A friend of Malcolm's recently went through the same thing."

"I wish I had known," Francis said, "I guess I screwed things up good, this time. Even I hate myself for what I did."

"Francis, you gave a helping hand," Albus said, "and you did it out of love. In the world of magic that is the greatest power there is. Never give up hope when there is still a chance."

Francis looked at the old wizard and asked, "Do you believe there is still a chance?"

"Let me tell you about your brother. As a joke, he was picked to play in a game that he was terrible at. His friend told me that Malcolm would probably win. I asked how, and he said, 'I don't know how, but I know Malcolm. If there is a way, he'll find it. Malcolm ended up winning the game for his team. He did it in a way that no one had ever thought of. And Francis, that was not the first time or the last time he did something like that. It was only the most impressive."

Francis nodded and asked, "Then you won't be surprised if Malcolm pulls this off."

Albus said, "No, I won't be surprised if he succeeds, but I will probably be surprised at how he succeeds.

*

Malcolm walked into the Great Hall for lunch, and was grabbed and forced into a chair. The ringleader, Hermione Granger, demanded to know what happened.

"It's like this," Malcolm said. "It turns out that Nob is only five years old. My parents contacted Family Welfare, and applied for custody. The Department of Magic stepped in, and took Nob away because he was acting strange. The Hearing is at this morning at ten."

"Wait a minute," Ginny said, "What did Nob do?"

"That's the funny part," Malcolm said, with a bitter laugh, "He ate some ice cream, and then he lied about it. Since house elves don't lie, there must be something wrong with Nob."

Malcolm picked up his plate and threw it against the wall. "IT'S NOT FAIR," he cried, "I have a brother for five minutes, and they take him away." He stormed out of the Great Hall.

"I didn't understand that at all," Hermione said.

"I did," Ginny admitted, and pushed her plate away. She was no longer hungry.

After a few minutes of awkward silence, EJ asked, "How much time do we have?"

"What do you mean?" Neville asked.

"Until the hearing," EJ explained. "It half past noon our time. The Americans are from five to eight hours behind us. At the worst, we still have two an a half hours to come up with a solution."

"Why us?" Ginny asked.

"Because we're all Malcolm has," EJ said, "And we have the smartest student in the school on our team."

Everyone looked at Hermione. "Malcolm knows more than I do," She admitted.

"But you're better at using what you know," Neville said, "The three of you get started, I'm going to find out how much time we have."

Hermione watched as Neville left to find Dumbledore. "I don't know where to start, " she said, then started laughing. "I'm sorry," she apologized, "but if anyone could teach a house elf to lie, it would be Malcolm's family."

Ginny and EJ laughed as well, then EJ asked, "Could we teach a house elf to lie? Then we could show them that it isn't that strange."

"We could try," Hermione said, but we only have a few hours, and Malcolm's family had over three months. But I think we're on the right track. We can try asking the house elves if they know of any cases of an elf lying. Although, you two had better ask them."

"They're mad at you because of S.P.E.W., aren't they?" Ginny asked, and she and EJ laughed as Hermione blushed.

"I'll wait here for Neville," Hermione said, "Oh, and be sure to talk to Dobby, I know he's only started here, but he knows about the Malfoys as well. If any elf had cause to lie, it would be one working for them."

"How long has Dobby been working here," EJ asked, "You make it sound like he only started recently."

"Oh, he's been here since there beginning of the school year," Hermione said. "I meant that he was new, compared to the other house elves."

Ginny stopped and her eyes grew wide, "That's not true," she said, "Last year, Dobby was sneaking muffins out to Buckbeak the hippogryph, as a favor to Malcolm. That's why Hagrid was always complaining that Buckbeak wouldn't eat."

"But Dobby told Harry that he had started at the beginning of this school year. Ron and I were standing there when he said it," Hermione told her.

All three faces lit up in joy. Three voices, in unison, said, "Dobby lied."

*

"You are already late for classes," Dumbledore said, as he walked into the Great Hall, with Neville in tow. "I have some bad news for you, anyway. The hearing is taking place in the American Capitol. You would only have two hours, and you would still have to get there." They he added softly, "Please, forget this, and go to your classes. I will see that you are excused for your lateness."

"But Professor, we found the answer," Hermione said, "we know how to prove that Nob is normal."

Dumbledore smiled, and asked, "How."

"We need Dobby," Ginny said, "We think we can prove that he lied."

"Do you see, Professor, Nob is free and he lied. Dobby is free and he also lied."

Albus cast a spell with his wand, and said, "Marvelous thinking Miss Granger. Something happening once is an aberration. If it happens twice, it is merely unusual."

"Dobby is here," Dobby said, "Dobby heard you call him."

"Thank you Dobby," Dumbledore said, "I need to ask you three questions, if you don't mind."

"Dobby will answer a thousand question," Dobby said happily.

"Very well, I must first ask you if you have ever lied about anything, or if you know of any house elf that has ever lied?"

"No, Professor Dumbledore Sir," Dobby said, "A house elf does not lie. A house elf can not lie. Dobby has told Dumbledore that."

"Yes. you have, Dobby. My second question is this. Do you remember when it was that you came to Hogwarts."

"Yes, Sir, Mr. Dumbledore, Sir. It was after Friend Harry Potter tricked my master into freeing me."

"My last question is this," Albus said, pointing at Hermione, "when did you tell Miss Granger that you started working here?"

Dobby looked at Hermione, who had her arms crossed, and froze in his tracks. After a long silence, Hermione said, "We already know the answer to that question. Why don't you tell us why you lied, Dobby."

Dobby looked from face to face. A look from Dumbledore told him there was no use in running. Finally, he said, "Dobby was ashamed. Dobby is free. Dobby can do whatever Dobby wants, and Dobby runs to Friend Harry like Dobby is still owned."

Albus pulled out his watch and said, "I had already made arrangements, just in case. It will be close thing, but I trust to all governments and I expect they will be late, as usual."

"May Dobby leave," Dobby asked.

"Dobby may leave but he must get ready for a trip," Albus said. "We have to travel to America. And don't worry, we will be coming back. Miss Granger, you will have to come as a witness to the incident." Turning to the entrance of the Hall he called to Francis, "We have what we need, young man. We will be going shortly."

"Francis?" Ginny said, "Welcome to Hogwarts."

"Hi Ginny," Francis said, "I guess I need to thank all of you."

"Good Luck," Ginny said, then she said, "Malcolm!"

"I'll run to the common room and get him," EJ said, "where should he meet you?"

"At Hogsmeade Station," Dumbledore said, "If he flies fast enough he may even beat us there."

"I'll check the owlery," Ginny said, "He might be there sulking."

Neville watched his two housmates run out of the Great Hall and said, "It's a long shot, but I'll check his classroom, just in case."

"By the way," Hermione said to the Headmaster, "If you ever ask anyone if they lied, they always say no."

"That girl has a wonderful mind," Albus told Francis, "And she is finally developing a sense of humor. Have you ever lied to anyone, Francis?"

"Of course not."

"Just checking."


	33. Alternative Chapter 22: Version Two

A/N: I liked this chapter a lot, because it goes further than the previous chapter, and everyone shows up in Washigton for the trial. I get to write a whole bunch of legal mumbo jumbo. The difference in this version is that Dewey shows up instead of Francis. I personally thought this was a very good chapter, but it did not fit in with the main story.

  
  
  
  
Chapter Twenty Two: Arguments and the Law 

"Good Morning, Malcolm," Hermione said, frostily.

"Are you still mad at me about the house elf?" Malcolm said as he looked up from his breakfast. "I told you it wasn't my fault."

"We have nothing to talk about," Hermione said, as she walked past."

"What would you like me to do?" Malcolm yelled after her, "Do you want me to adopt him. Will that make you happy."

"I don't know why she's upset," Ginny said, "He looked cute in the picture they sent."

"Yeah," Malcolm admitted, "but things are getting weird at my house. According to my Mom, Francis taught the house elf to lie."

"Is Francis home, now," Neville asked.

"No, apparently he gave lessons over the phone. Mom's furious about the phone bill."

"Could we talk about something else other than Malcolm's house elf," EJ asked, "I hear this argument every morning."

"Well," Neville said, "Malcolm's house elf . . ."

"Please, Neville," EJ said, "I am getting tired of it."

Neville smirked and said, "I only wanted to point out that Malcolm's house elf just walked into the Hall."

Everyone turned to look at Dewey walking toward them, holding the house elf by the hand. Nob was wearing, his favorite blue shirt (ever since Francis said it used to be his), the Thomas the Tank Engine overalls, and bargain store sneakers. Except for the nose and the long pointed ears, he looked like any other short, ugly kid.

Dewey forced Nob into a chair and said, "Nob, that's Malcolm. Stay with him." He then walked off to the front of the Hall toward the teachers table. Malcolm absently noted that Professor Snape was reaching for his wand.

"Hi, I'm Malcolm," Malcolm said.

"Hi, I'm Nob," Nob said."

"Hello, Nob," a voice said suddenly from behind Malcolm, startling him, "I'm Hermione Granger. I'm a very close friend of Malcolm." Ignoring everyone's looks, she continued, "did I hear you say 'I'm Nob.'"

"No," Nob said carefully, "I said I was. Why would I call you by my name?" As Hermione stared at the elf while he turned to Malcolm and asked, "Is she one of those simple people that Reese told me about?"

"He uses proper grammar, Malcolm," Hermione said in surprise.

"Yeah, it seems Francis told him that talking the other way made him sound like a baby."

"Mommy says that I'm growing up," Nob said with a smile.

Everyone who was listening, turned to stare at Nob, half of them had their jaws open.

"Do you call Malcolm's Mom, Mommy now," Hermione asked first.

"Yes," Nob said proudly, "Mommy is making it so she will be my mommy too. I'm being `dopted."

"I hope you're happy now, Hermione," Malcolm said. Then he added, "I need to talk to someone. Where's Dewey?"

"He ditched me," Nob said, "Mommy said I have to stay with one of my brothers all the time, when I'm outside."

"That proves it," Ginny said, "You really are part of the family."

"Not for long," Dewey said, suddenly showing up with the Headmaster in tow.

"Another sad day, I am afraid to say," Dumbledore told the Gryffindors. "Malcolm, I would like to see you in my office, in an hour, to discuss this matter." He looked at the others at the table, who were looking expectantly at him, and said, "I'm sure Malcolm will tell you all about it, later."

"Let's go, Nob," Dewey said. Nob looked up, and sadly took his brother's hand. He waved goodbye and the two walked out of the hall.

*

Malcolm walked into the Great Hall for lunch, and was grabbed and forced into a chair. The ringleader, Hermione Granger, demanded to know what happened.

"It's like this," Malcolm said. "It turns out that Nob is only five years old. And my parents contacted social services, and applied for custody. Mom argued that he was a minor, and had to be treated as one. Well . . ." Malcolm paused and said, "look it's a really long story, but this is what it comes down to. Mom and Dad were given Nob. They freed him, then found out he was only five. They went weird and decided to adopt him. The Department of Magic stepped in, and they worked out a deal. My folks could raise him, but he'd be watched to see if he started acting strange or anything. It was supposed to be a social experiment."

"Then why is everyone so sad?" Hermione asked.

Malcolm looked at her and said, "If you hadn't interrupted to ask, I would have told you already."

"Sorry," Hermione said, "Then why is everyone so sad."

Malcolm rolled his eyes. "Some social worker said that Nob developed an aberration. He did something abnormal and now the Government is taking custody of him to see if they can get him back to normal. The Hearing is at this morning at ten."

"Wait a minute," Ginny said, "What did Nob do?"

"That's the funny part," Malcolm said, with a bitter laugh, "He ate some ice cream, and then he lied about it. Since house elves don't lie, there must be something wrong."

Malcolm picked up his plate and threw it against the wall. "It's not fair," He cried, "I have a brother for five minutes, and they take him away." He stormed out of the Great Hall.

"I didn't understand that at all," Hermione said.

"I did," Ginny admitted, and pushed her plate away. She was no longer hungry.

"How much time do we have?" EJ asked.

"What do you mean?" Neville asked.

"Until the hearing," EJ explained. "It half past noon our time. The Americans are from five to eight hours behind us. At the worst, we still have two an a half hours to come up with a solution."

"Why us?" Ginny asked.

"Because we're all Malcolm has," EJ said, "And we have the smartest student in the school on our team."

Everyone looked at Hermione. "Malcolm knows more than I do," She admitted.

"But you know better how to use it," Neville said, "The three of you get started, I'm going to find out how much time we have."

Hermione watched as Neville left to find Dumbledore. "I don't know where to start, " she said, then started laughing. "I'm sorry," she apologized, "but if anyone could teach a house elf to lie, it would be Malcolm's family."

Ginny and EJ laughed as well, then EJ asked, "Could we teach a house elf to lie? Then we could show them that it isn't that strange."

"We could try," Hermione said, but we only have a few hours, and Malcolm's family had over three months. But I think we're on the right track. We can try asking the house elves if they know of an cases of an elf lying. Although, you two had better ask them."

"They're mad at you because of S.P.E.W., aren't they?" Ginny asked, and she and EJ laughed as Hermione blushed.

"I'll wait here for Neville," Hermione said, "Oh, and be sure to talk to Dobby, I know he only started here, but he knows about the Malfoys as well. If any elf had cause to lie, it would be one working for them."

"How long has Dobby been working here," EJ asked, "You make it sound like he only started."

"Oh, he's been here since there beginning of the school year," Hermione said. "I meant that he was new, compared to the other house elves."

Ginny stopped and her eyes grew wide, "That's not true," she said, "Last year, Dobby was sneaking muffins out to Buckbeak the hippogryph, as a favor to Malcolm. That's why Hagrid was always complaining that Buckbeak wouldn't eat."

"But Dobby told Harry that he had started at the beginning of this school year. Ron and I were standing there when he said it," Hermione told her.

All three faces lit up in joy. Three voices, in unison, said, "Dobby lied."

"You are already late for classes," Dumbledore said, as he walked into the Great Hall, with Neville in tow. "I have some bad news for you, anyway. The hearing is taking place in the American Capitol. You would only have two hours, and you would still have to get there. Please forget this, and go to your classes. I will see that you are excused for your lateness."

"But Professor, we found the answer," Hermione said, "we know how to prove that Nob is normal."

Dumbledore smiled, and asked, "How?"

"We need Dobby," Ginny said, "We think we can prove that he lied."

"Do you see, Professor, Nob is free and he lied. Dobby is free and he also lied."

Albus cast a spell with his wand, and said, "Marvelous thinking Miss Granger. Something happening once is an aberration. If it happens twice, it is merely unusual."

"Dobby is here," Dobby said, "Dobby heard you call him."

"Thank you Dobby," Dumbledore said, "I need to ask you three questions, if you don't mind."

"Dobby will answer a thousand question," Dobby said happily.

"Very well, I must first ask you if you have ever lied about anything, or if you know of any house elf that has ever lied?"

"No, Professor Dumbledore Sir," Dobby said, "A house elf does not lie. A house elf can not lie."

"Thank you, Dobby. My second question is this. Do you remember when it was that you came to Hogwarts."

"Yes, Sir, Mr. Dumbledore, Sir. It was after Harry Potter tricked my master into freeing me."

"My last question is this," Albus said, pointing at Hermione, "when did you tell Miss Granger that you started working here?"

Dobby looked at Hermione, who had her arms crossed, and froze in his tracks. After a long silence, Hermione said, "We already know the answer to that question. Why don't you tell us why you lied, Dobby."

Dobby looked from face to face. A look from Dumbledore told him there was no use in running. Finally, he said, "Dobby was ashamed. Dobby is free. Dobby can do whatever he wants, and Dobby runs to friend Harry like he is still owned."

Albus pulled out his watch and said, "I'll start making the arrangements. It will be close, but I trust to all governments and I expect they will be late, as usual."

"May Dobby leave," Dobby asked.

"Dobby may leave but he must get ready for a trip," Albus said. "We have to travel to America. And don't worry, we will be coming back. Miss Granger, you will have to come as a witness to the incident, and I suppose we should include one other person for moral support."

*

"He's not here," EJ said, as they finished searching the entire tower.

"Check the owlery," Hermione said, "He usually goes there when he's upset. Hedwig is there. She'll help you find him."

"What should we tell him," Ginny asked.

"Tell him to be at Hogsmeade station in twenty minutes or we're leaving without him," Hermione said. She ran back to the Great Hall while the others ran off in the other direction.

"We couldn't find him," Hermione said as she caught her breath, "what happens if he can't make it."

"Then we go without him," Albus said, "We don't need him, but . . . I thought he would like to be there."

"He knows to meet us at the station,' Hermione said. Albus nodded and led her to the coach that was waiting. Dobby was waiting inside, dressed in his best clothes: Lederhosen with a hawaiian shirt, mismatched socks and the tea cozy hat. Except for the nose and long ears he looked like any other short, ugly tourist.

*

Lois was pacing the floor outside of the courtroom. Hal, normally unobtrusive at times like these, was on the verge of an outburst. Reese and Dewey were both quiet and well behaved, which should have made anyone suspicious.

Thirty minutes later than scheduled, the hearing started, and the family was ushered into the courtroom. As the judge called the court to order, the doors opened, and David Winter walked in with Albus Dumbledore, Dobby and Hermione Granger following. Lois looked surprised, then even more surprised when she heard Malcolm behind her, saying, "Hi Mom."

"Malcolm," she hissed, "what are you doing here. You're supposed to be in school."

"We came at the last minute, to save the day," Malcolm said.

"You're too early," Dewey said, trying not to look happy at his brother, "they just started."

"It's not my fault they started late," Malcolm whispered back.

They paused as the judge said, loudly, "all of the evidence has already been presented."

"This is ancillary evidence, your honor," the case worker said. "It relates, in general, to this case, and its purpose is strictly informative. Such evidence is permitted under Statute . . ."

"I know the Statute," the wizard Judge said, "present the evidence."

"This is a prior case, your honor. It has not been documented by the courts but all of the principles involved are present. In the previous year, and under similar circumstances, a house elf had been found lying."

"I recognize Professor Dumbledore," the Judge stated, "and his reputation does carry weight in this court. I will be very interested to here this evidence."

"Two years ago, in June," the case worker explained, "the house elf named Dobby was made free by his owner, and was immediately hired for wages at the Hogwarts School. Last fall, while being visited by friends, one of whom is Hermione Granger, who is present, another being one Harry Potter . . . "

The Judge banged his gavel, and said, "Mr. Potter is clearly not present, and to mention him is nothing more than name dropping. The clerk will remove that section from the court records. You may continue, and carefully, counselor."

"Yes, your honor. At this meeting, the elf Dobby did deliberately lie about his date of employment, and when questioned about it at a later date, admitted to being ashamed to have attached himself to the school of his rescuer, as he phrases it. I wish to note that the elf Dobby recognizes Mr. Harry Potter as his rescuer."

"The court will make note of this information," the judge said, "and you will now explain how it applies to the custody case before us."

"The simple of the matter is this, your honor. Both elves are not owned, and are free to do as they wish. Both exercised the right to lie. To consider lying to be divergent is not proper if it is consistent. To remove the child for this reason, and this is the reason specifically noted, would be unlawful. It may not be proper for a child to lie, but it should be expected, and not punished to a cruel and unusual extent."

"Are there any other comments," the judge asked.

"If I may comment," the government attorney asked. "We are not dealing, in this case, with an ordinary child. We are dealing with a house elf, who, though circumstances, has been permitted, as part of an experiment, to live with a human family as a member of the household. The difficulty with this case is that the house elf has failed to adapt properly to these conditions. 

The fact that the elf in question resorted to lying for something as mundane as ice cream, shows that, left to himself, the house elf will take up the worst of the habits of his caretakers. The elf, Nob, three months ago a dutiful worker, has become a petty thief and a liar. This is what we wish to put an end to.

"I respect Professor Dumbledore as does everyone here, and I am saddened that he has the same problem, to a lesser degree. However, that does not mean we should permit an elf, even one as young as Nob, to degenerate until he becomes a danger to everyone. I should remind the court, that elves are, by nature, magical creatures. Without proper training and control, a rogue elf would be a danger to itself and others. We ask that he be removed not out of anger, but out of sympathy. It would be the best thing to do in the long run, for everyone involved."

The judge banged his gavel and said, "This court is adjourned. It will reconvene at 2:00 P.M., I will render my decision at that time."

*

The judge stood and looked over the courtroom. He remained standing while he spoke.

"Let me state, first of all, that this is not a trial. No crime has been committed, nor has anyone been accused of any wrongdoing. This is a hearing to determine the legal disposition of a minor placed in the care of this court.

"The arguments presented in this court have been many and varied, ranging from the purely emotional to the legally stringent. Most significantly has been raised the specter of slavery in these proceedings. Because of my racial background and my early years as a muggle in Georgia and Alabama, these arguments strike a violent cord within me, to the point where I have suggested to two of my colleagues that they review my decision to insure its fairness. They have done this and judged it fair and to the point.

"The question of the legality of owning a house elf is not one that is before this court. It will not be decided by this court, or considered in this court. The next question raised is the propriety of having an elf child raised by human parents. This is also not a matter for this court. The Department of Magic has authorized what is termed a social experiment, to determine if there has been an error in judgement as to the nature and capabilities of elves. I can only consider this question in view of its failure. The evidence is this hinged on the fact that the elf in question did lie. Evidence was presented that elves can and do lie, therefore that an elf does so cannot be considered against its nature. I have interviewed the witnesses in chambers and determined that they are correct in this. This court has no evidence that this experiment has failed.

"The proper question before this court is the placement of the minor child known as Nob. I took the liberty, to which I am entitled, to speak to the child privately. Based on that discussion, I contacted the one family member who is not present, and verified several points. This conversation was recorded and transcribed and is now part of the official record.

"When a child lies, he or she lies for a reason, and that reason is always to get something he or she wants. Nob did not lie to get ice cream, or to hide the fact that he took some ice cream. He was told that he was practically part of the family he was staying with. Then he was told that all he had to do was to lie. He misunderstood the context of the statement, and so he lied because it would get him something he wanted.

"It is the ruling of this court that the child Nob shall be returned to his foster parents with the understanding that they will pursue the legal question of his permanent placement. From the loud noises coming from the visitors section I will assume that the foster parents agree.

"Furthermore, no action may be taken to hinder this action without the approval of this or a superior court. This court stands adjourned.

*

"Malcolm, how are you doing?" Draco asked. "I saw you flip out during lunch, then you disappeared for two days."

"I'm fine. I have a new brother," Malcolm said in a melancholy voice

"I heard. Ginny told me what happened. We happened to meet . . . in a quiet place. I wanted to make sure you were fine."

"Thanks for checking on me."

"You're my friend, Malcolm. I care about what happens to you."

"Right," Malcolm said.

"Malcolm a good thing happened to you. Cherish it."

"You don't understand, Draco," Malcolm said angrily. "All somebody has to do is say, this isn't worth it, and Nob is gone, just like that. And it could happen anytime. How can you tell me to cherish something like that?"

Draco withheld his surprise at the strong comments, and said, softly, "You cried when I could not shed a tear."


End file.
